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Printed  on  the  occasion  of  the  Exhibition  of   Paintings   by   Senor   Sorolla 

at  the   invitation  of  the   Hispanic  Society  of  America,  is6th  Street, 

West  of  Broadway,  New  York  City,  February  4  to  March  9,  1909. 


NEW  YORK  1909 

Copyright,  1909,  by 







Aureliano  de  Beruete 


Camille  Mauclair 


Henri  Rochefort 


Leonard  Williams 



Elisabeth  Luther  Gary 


James  Gibbons  Huneker 


Christian  Brinton 


JOAQUIN  SOROLLA  :    THE  MAN  AND  His  WORK       .     .       7 
William  E.  B.  Starkweather 







DURING  the  past  two  decades,  Spanish  art  has 
made  advances  so  great,  that  it  to-day  occupies 
among  contemporary  European  schools  of  painting 
a  position  of  proud  preeminence. 

Fifty  years  ago  the  essentially  national  art  of  Spain 
seemed  well-nigh  extinct.  Basing  their  work  upon 
the  cold  pseudo-classicism  of  David,  there  had  grown 
up  in  the  peninsula  a  group  of  men  \vho  quite  domi- 
nated Spanish  art  and  who  devoted  their  considerable 
talents  to  the  painting  of  huge  historical  illustrations. 
In  the  work  of  Frederico  Madrazo  and  of  his  innu- 
merable pupils,  whose  ranks  included  such  distin- 
guished craftsmen  as  Casado  del  Alisal  and  Resales, 
we  but  occasionally  find  traces  of  that  unwavering 
naturalism  which  has  been  the  characteristic  of  Span- 
ish art  in  its  greatest  epochs. 

Nor  did  the  comet-like  Fortuny,  with  his  horde  of 
imitators  and  followers,  serve  to  revive  the  historical 

'This  presentation  of  its  subject,  not  before  printed,  has  been 
prepared  as  a  lecture  to  be  illustrated  by  the  lantern. 

school  of  Spain.  Endowed  with  amazing  natural 
gifts,  Fortuny  chose  to  forsake  his  own  country  and 
the  subjects  of  his  country  and  gave  us  a  series  of 
works  more  French  than  Spanish  and  which,  though 
astounding  in  their  technical  achievement  and  glitter- 
ing beauty,  are  not  free  from  the  reproach  of  insin- 
cerity and  commercialism. 

From  this  chaos  of  French  influence  there  has  re- 
cently emerged  a  group  of  artists  of  extraordinary 
power,  who,  absolutely  Spanish  in  style,  have  revived 
the  art  of  their  Fatherland  and  are  forcing  it  to  that 
position  of  eminence  which  it  held  in  past  centuries. 
Joaquin  Sorolla  y  Bastida,  Ignacio  Zuloaga,  Gonzalo 
Bilbao,  and  Hernan  Anglada  are  the  leaders  of  this 

The  intensely  national  character  of  his  work,  his 
extraordinary  technical  attainments,  the  catholicity  of 
his  choice  of  subject,  and  the  volume  of  his  output 
have  given  Sorolla  an  undisputed  position  as  the  chief 
of  this  strong  group  of  vigorous  painters.  For  ten 
years  he  has  exerted  a  dominating  influence  over 
Spanish  art. 

Sorolla's  strength  is  the  strength  of  the  people. 
Born  of  humble  parents  in  Valencia,  on  the  twenty- 
seventh  of  February,  1863,  he  had  the  misfortune  to 
lose  his  parents  during  the  great  epidemic  of  cholera 

Playa  de  Valencia 



Playa  de  Valencia 

Plava  de  Valencia 


Puerto  de  San  Sebastian 


that  swept  the  city  two  years  later.  Together  with 
his  infant  sister,  he  was  adopted  by  his  maternal  aunt, 
Dona  Isabel  Bastida,  and  her  husband,  Don  Jose 
Piqueres,  the  latter  by  trade  a  locksmith.  At  school 
young  Sorolla  took  no  particular  interest  in  his  les- 
sons, but  spent  the  greater  part  of  his  time  scribbling 
and  sketching  on  his  school  books.  Finally,  his  uncle 
withdrew  the  boy  from  the  class-room  and  placed 
him  at  the  forge,  where  Sorolla  worked  away  for 
some  time  and  laid  the  foundation  for  that  splendid 
physique  which  has  served  him  so  well  in  later  years. 
Sorolla  soon  began  study  at  a  drawing-school  for 
artisans,  where  he  showed  great  ability.  Encouraged 
by  the  natural  aptitude  of  his  nephew,  Senor  Piqueres 
permitted  him  to  leave  his  work  at  the  forge  forever 
and  to  attend  the  local  art  school  known  as  the  Real 
Academia  de  San  Carlos.  Here  the  youth  became 
the  favorite  pupil  of  Estruch,  and  had  the  good  for- 
tune to  enlist  the  interest  of  Senor  Garcia,  a  celebrated 
Valencian  photographer,  who  assisted  the  struggling 
artist  for  some  years.  Subsequently  Sorolla  married 
the  daughter  of  his  patron,  Dona  Clotilda. 

At  seventeen  Sorolla  made  his  first  trip  to  Madrid  • 
and  exhibited  a  picture,  a  landscape,  which  to-day  he 
characterizes   as   "Very  bad."     "It   could   not  have 
been  worse,"  he  says  laughingly.     Led  on  by  that 


tremendous  ambition  and  enthusiasm  which  are  the 
greatest  characteristics  of  the  man,  and  amply  backed 
by  his  great  bodily  and  mental  force,  Sorolla  at  twenty 
years  of  age  undertook  the  painting  of  a  twelve-foot 
canvas  and  gave  us  his  first  important  picture,  "The 
Second  of  May." 

This  picture  depicts  the  desperate  resistance  of  the 
Madrid  people  to  the  French  in  the  Spanish  War  of 
Independence.  It  is  a  turgid,  immature  work,  imita- 
tive in  many  ways  of  Goya;  theatrical  in  treatment, 
and  deficient  in  technical  achievement.  It  is  inter- 
esting, however,  inasmuch  as  it  forecasts  something 
of  what  the  future  art  of  Sorolla  was  to  be.  The 
young  painter  started  the  huge  work  in  a  studio. 
He  found  the  result  disappointingly  unreal.  Under 
the  first  promptings  of  that  tendency  toward  realism 
which  afterward  became  a  passion  with  him,  he 
scraped  his  canvas  clean  and  set  it  up  again  in  the 
open  bull-ring  of  his  native  town.  Here  in  clear  sun- 
light, with  his  models  smoke-enshrouded  to  give  the 
effect  of  battle,  he  painted  the  picture.  The  reality 
which  the  canvas  thus  gained  is  its  principal  claim 
to  merit.  In  1884  he  gained  a  scholarship  from  the 
city  of  Valencia  and  wrent  to  Italy.  Here  he  copied 
from  the  Italian  masters  and,  under  the  influence  of 
the  classical  Roman  school,  painted  his  only  religious 

Puerto  de  San  Sebastian 



Playa  de  Valencia 



picture,  "The  Burial  of  the  Saviour,"  a  correct,  but 
cold  and  unrepresentative  work. 

A  journey  to  Paris,  however,  gave  the  young  man 
opportunity  to  study  works  of  Bastien-Lepage  and 
of  Menzel.  Among  modern  painters  these  two  great 
realists  have  been  Sorolla's  chief  enthusiasms. 

During  his  first  visit  to  the  Metropolitan  Museum, 
made  a  few  weeks  ago,  it  was  Bastien-Lepage's  great 
picture,  "Joan  of  Arc,"  that  he  looked  for  with  im- 
patience in  every  room.  It  was  this  picture  that  he 
studied  with  greatest  interest.  And  in  the  exhibition 
of  contemporary  German  art,  the  pictures  of  Menzel 
moved  him  to  boyish  enthusiasm. 

Returning  to  Italy  he  continued  his  work  as  a 
copyist.  Sorolla  himself  regards  this  Italian  trip  as 
effort  spent  in  vain.  He  had  not  found  his  definite 
manner.  Always  determined,  however,  always  indus- 
trious, he  produced  several  large  works  of  rather  in- 
determinate style.  With  his  return  to  Spain,  Sorolla 
fell  upon  difficult  years.  He  was  very  poor  and  sup- 
ported himself  largely  by  the  sale  of  water  colors 
and  illustrations.  He  has  told  me  that  the  first  pic- 
ture he  ever  sold,  a  landscape,  brought  him  seven 
pesetas,  that  is,  $1.40,  and  that  he  painted  small  por- 
trait heads  at  a  dollar  apiece.  He  was  habitually 
reduced  to  such  shabby  shifts  as  painting  on  the 

coarse  back  of  his  canvas,  instead  of  on  the  smoother 
prepared  side,  so  that  his  picture  would  have  the 
effect  of  having  the  tooth  of  a  heavier  and  more 
expensive  canvas  than  that  which  he  could  afford. 

Finally,  in  1892,  he  exhibited  at  Madrid  his  first 
representative  picture,  "Otra  Margarita."  His  suc- 
cess was  immediate.  He  found  himself  at  once 
among  the  front  ranks  of  Spanish  masters.  Brought 
to  the  World's  Fair  at  Chicago,  this  canvas  now  hangs 
in  the  Museum  at  St.  Louis. 

With  "Otra  Margarita"  the  career  of  the  Sorolla 
the  world  knows  may  be  said  to  have  begun.  He  had 
found  himself. 

Sorolla's  work  has  come  as  a  surprise  and  revela- 
tion to  the  American  public.  Famous  for  years  in 
Europe,  where  he  has  won  every  honor  within  the 
gift  of  the  French  government,  he  had  shown  but 
little  of  his  work  in  this  country  and  has  been  repre- 
sented here  but  by  a  few  scattered  and  rather  early 
examples.  Now,  under  the  auspices  of  the  public- 
spirited  Hispanic  Society  of  America,  which  has 
brought  Sorolla  to  our  country  as  its  guest,  he  has 
shown  us  a  representative  collection  of  his  work  in 
a  more  splendid  and  harmonious  setting  than  it  has 
ever  before  received. 

Judged  superficially,  there  might  be  a  first  tendency 


La  Concha,  San  Sebastia 


Puerto  de  Pasajes 


to  declare  that  we  had  seen  work  more  essentially 
Spanish  than  is  his.  Sorolla  has  done  few  costume 
pictures.  In  his  work  you  will  find  no  gipsies,  no 
cigarette  girls,  no  figures  strumming  guitars,  none  of 
that  passing  Southern  Spain  for  which  tourists  search 
and  which  the  general  public  expects  of  Spanish 

"They  said  I  did  not  paint  Spain,"  Sorolla  once 
exclaimed  of  some  early  French  criticism  of  his  work, 
"because  I  did  not  paint  a  duchess  with  her  arms 
about  the  neck  of  a  bull-fighter.  That  Spain,  the 
Spain  of  Theophile  Gautier,  no  longer  exists !'' 

I  remember  very  well  on  my  first  trip  to  Spain  that 
the  painter  reproved  me  sharply  for  reading  Gautier  s 
book,  saying  with  patriotic  pride  that  it  maligned  his 
country  as  it  is  to-day. 

Of  the  four  great  leaders  of  modern  Spanish  art, 
Sorolla,  Anglada,  Zuloaga,  and  Bilbao,  Sorolla  is  in 
reality  the  most  thoroughly  national,  because  he  is 
the  most  thoroughly  realistic.  Only  in  rare  instances 
has  he  occupied  himself  with  anything  else  than  a 
masterly  representation  of  the  appearance  of  things. 
With  psychology,  philosophy  or  symbolism  he  is  not 
concerned  and,  like  Velazquez  and  Goya,  absolute 
realism  has  been  the  basis  of  his  art.  Velazquez  in 
his  third  manner  was  undoubtedly  the  first  of  impres- 

sionists.  He  threw  aside  traditions,  or  compromises 
with  tradition,  and  in  Las  Mcninas  gave  us  a  ren- 
dering of  what  he  actually  saw  instead  of  what  he 
knew  to  be  there.  The  facts,  the  visual  impressions 
of  that  court  group,  are  presented  to  us  exactly  as 
they  would  have  been  recorded  on  our  eye  had  we 
been  there  to  see  and  if  we  had  had  the  keenness  of 
eye  to  discern.  And  as  a  result  of  this  insistent 
analysis,  he  arrived  at  giving  us  correct  renderings 
of  the  figures  as  they  stood  before  him  in  illuminated 
atmosphere,  securing  effects  of  unrivaled  natural- 
ness, and  for  the  first  time  in  the  history  of  painting, 
deriving  tone  and  quality  in  a  picture  by  a  repre- 
sentation based  on  natural  harmony,  rather  than  by 
some  arbitrary  toning  process  of  the  studio.  Goya, 
much  less  limited  in  field  than  Velazquez,  extended 
the  impressionism  of  the  earlier  master  to  suit  his 
own  temperament.  And  Sorolla  has  taken  this  picto- 
rial impressionism  that  is  the  heritage  of  Spanish  art 
and  carried  it  ably  on  with  the  brilliant  and  extended 
range  of  the  palette  of  to-day. 

His  work  has  so  far  been  marked  by  four  distinct 
manners.  The  Segovians,  the  oldest  work  in  the 
Hispanic  Society  exhibition,  is  a  good  example  of 
his  first  manner.  Here  the  subject  is  more  definitely 
arranged  than  in  his  later  work,  the  color  is  darker. 


Playa  de  Valenci 


Playa  de  Valencia 

Playa  de  Yalenci 


Playa  de  Valencia 


the  technic  less  spontaneous.  In  the  figure  of  the 
old  man  rising  from  his  chair,  of  the  girl  with 
her  head  turned  toward  the  window,  there  is 
some  hint  of  a  blind  search  toward  those  qualities 
of  transience  and  accident  which  so  definitely  mark 
his  later  work. 

In  his  second  manner  we  find  a  much  less  delib- 
erate arrangement,  a  much  truer  understanding  of 
illumination  and  submergence  of  figures  in  atmos- 
phere, while  his  brush  work  has  begun  to  assume 
that  surety  and  finality  that  now  distinguish  it. 

His  third  manner  is  most  clearly  shown  in  his  great 
picture  "Beaching  the  Boats."  The  elemental  nature 
of  this  scene,  the  struggle  of  man  and  beast  with  the 
forces  of  wind  and  water,  have  given  Sorolla  perhaps 
his  greatest  opportunity.  One  of  his  earliest  large 
canvases  of  this  scene,  painted  when  a  little  past 
thirty,  was  bought  for  the  Luxembourg  by  the  French 
government.  Now  in  the  fullness  of  his  middle  years 
he  has  given  us  a  final  colossal  treatment  of  this 
subject,  a  masterpiece  of  painting  and  drawing  that 
has  occupied  places  of  honor  when  shown  at  London, 
Paris,  Madrid,  Berlin,  and  New  York.  Here  his 
rendering  of  sunlight  has  reached  a  point  of  luminous 
splendor  and  beauty  beyond  which  he  himself,  nor 
any  other  man  indeed,  has  ever  gone.  The  crafts- 


manship  of  the  picture  is  masterly.  The  tremendous 
vigor,  abundance,  and  fine  sanity  of  the  man's  art 
find  in  this  canvas  one  of  its  greatest  expressions. 

Sorolla's  work  is  characterized  by  extraordinary 
excellence  in  three  great  qualities,  drawing,  paint- 
ing, and  color.  It  is  well-nigh  impossible  to  overstate 
the  triumph  of  his  technic. 

His  drawing,  at  all  times  adequate,  has  become 
wonderful  in  its  simplicity  and  directness.,  in  its 
grasp  of  essentials,  its  searching  characterization. 
There  is  no  problem  of  moving  figure,  of  scintillant 
sea,  that  offers  him  difficulty.  He  has  said  of  draw- 
ing, "The  older  I  become,  the  more  I  realize  that 
drawing  is  the  most  important  of  all  the  problems  of 
picture-making.  Whether  you  use  three  thousand 
strokes,  or  ten  strokes,  in  the  painting  of  a  shoul- 
der, counts  for  nothing.  What  is  really  of  im- 
portance is  that  the  shoulder  be  solid  and  well 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  however,  it  is  well-nigh  im- 
possible to  separate  his  drawing  from  his  painting. 
His  drawing  is  painting,  his  painting  drawing.  Few 
would  quarrel  with  the  statement  that  he  knows  bet- 
ter than  any  other  living  man  how  to  apply  pigment 
to  canvas.  The  surety,  the  brilliancy,  the  solidity  of 
his  work,  are  unsurpassed  in  our  time.  And  his  tech- 


Playa  de  Valencia 


Playa  de  Valenci 

Playa  de  Valencia 


nic  is  majestic  in  its  power  and  dignity.  It  never 
descends  to  fireworks  for  fireworks'  sake:  his  hand 
is  always  the  servant,  never  the  master. 

In  his  fourth  manner,  illustrated  by  his  picture 
entitled  "Country  People  of  Leon,"  the  search  for 
reality  has  been  carried  so  far  that  there  remains  no 
trace  of  deliberated  composition.  This  huge  work 
has  been  taken  from  life  with  the  same  lack  of  pre- 
vious plan  with  which  another  artist  would  toss  off 
a  thumb-nail  sketch.  Summoning  all  his  extraor- 
dinary equipment  as  a  painter,  Sorolla  has  made  a 
furious  assault  on  the  canvas  in  the  effort  to  approxi- 
mate as  nearly  as  possible  the  effect  of  a  picture 
painted  in  a  moment  to  represent  what  he  had  seen 
in  a  moment  of  the  kaleidoscopic  group  before  him. 
The  canvas  is  a  marvel  of  virtuosity.  For  simplifica- 
tion, for  certainty  of  technic,  for  speed,  it  stands 

"The  great  difficulty  with  large  canvases  is  that 
they  should  by  right  be  painted  as  fast  as  a  sketch," 
Sorolla  has  said.  "By  speed  only  can  you  gain  an 
appearance  of  fleeting  effect.  But  to  paint  a  three- 
yard  canvas  with  the  same  despatch  as  one  of  ten 
inches  is  well-nigh  impossible."  It  is  these  theories 
that  have  found  expression  in  this  latest  phase  of  his 
extraordinary  art. 


"But  the  canvas  is  twenty  years  ahead  of  its  time," 
Sorolla  has  said  of  it.  "I  fear  that  people  will  hardly 
like  or  understand  it." 

''Twice  in  your  life,"  he  has  said  to  me,  "you  might, 
through  happy  accident,  arrive  at  painting  a  nose  with 
a  single  stroke  of  the  brush.  Things  well  done  and 
arrived  at  with  this  simplicity  are  marvelous  in  effect. 
But  it  would  be  the  maddest  folly  to  go  all  your  life 
thereafter  trying  to  paint  noses  with  but  one  stroke, 
for  it  would  be  manifestly  impossible  to  sustain  your- 
self at  a  height  the  reaching  of  which  is  accidental. 
When  an  artist  begins  to  count  strokes  instead  of 
regarding  nature  he  is  lost.  This  preoccupation  with 
technic,  at  the  expense  of  truth  and  sincerity,  is 
the  principal  fault  I  find  in  much  of  the  work  of 
modern  painters." 

In  color  for  outdoor  work  Sorolla  has  swept  his 
palette  clear  of  all  earthy  or  opaque  colors  such  as 
are  generally  employed  in  depicting  shadows.  "The 
chief  glory  of  the  old  masters,"  he  has  said,  "is  their 
drawing  and  characterization.  I  find  their  color  for 
the  most  part  purely  conventional.  The  chocolate 
brown  shadows  which  they  painted  on  the  side  of  a 
face,  for  example,  do  not  exist.  With  all  its  ex- 
cesses, the  modern  impressionistic  movement  has 
given  us  one  discovery,  the  color  violet.  It  is  the 


Playa  de  Valencia 


Playa  de  Valencia 


Playa  de  Valencia 



Playa  de  Valencia 

only  discovery  of  importance  in  the  art  world  since 

It  is  manifestly  impossible,  through  lack  of  per- 
spective, for  a  painter's  contemporaries  to  judge  what 
place  he  will  hold  in  future  years  among  the  great 
figures  of  art.  But  if  the  name  of  Sorolla  be  finally 
included  among  those  of  the  immortals,  it  will  be  due 
to  his  rendering  of  sunlight.  "It  is  impossible  really  to 
paint  sunlight,"  he  has  said,  "one  can  only  approximate 
it."  But  in  many  of  his  canvases  he  has  certainly 
come  near  to  performing  the  impossible.  It  seems  in- 
credible in  approaching  some  of  these  paintings,  that 
these  effects  are  obtained  with  ordinary  paint  only. 

One  searches  for  some  trick  of  reflection,  of  luster 
paint,  of  concealed  mirror,  in  these  radiant  canvases 
of  sparkling  sea,  of  shining  sail.  As  a  master  of 
sunlight  he  ranks  absolutely  alone. 

The  art  of  Sorolla  is  an  art  of  joy,  of  sunshine,  of 
splendid  youth.  He  does  not  consider  for  a  moment 
failure  or  distress,  old  age  or  death.  It  is  an  art 
somewhat  savage,  somewhat  pagan;  but  it  is  an  art 
beautifully  vigorous,  admirably  robust. 

In  a  time  when  art  is  so  concerned  with  the  elabora- 
tion of  the  minor  and  the  mournful,  his  frank  opti- 
mism, his  healthy  delight  in  living,  as  shown  in  these 
pictures,  is  a  refreshing  note. 


Sorolla  as  a  man  is  indefatigable.  There  is  noth- 
ing he  cares  about  save  his  family  and  his  art.  To 
these  two  objects  he  has  devoted  his  entire  life.  He 
goes  into  society  as  little  as  possible,  and,  in  the  past 
thirty  years,  there  have  been  comparatively  few  days, 
save  Sundays,  when  he  has  not  worked  six  to  nine 
hours.  His  output  has  been  enormous.  At  his  exhi- 
bition in  Paris,  three  years  ago,  he  showed  five  hun- 
dred pictures,  last  year  at  London,  two  hundred  and 
seventy-eight.  Some  idea,  too,  may  be  gained  of  his 
output  when  we  remember  that  comparatively  few  of 
the  (356)  canvases  he  is  now  exhibiting  at  the  His- 
panic Society  are  more  than  four  or  five  years  old. 
Certainly,  his  work  has  never  been  seen  to  better 
advantage  than  in  the  beautiful  building  of  the  His- 
panic Society.  And  the  unusual  construction  of  the 
building,  with  the  decorative  lines  of  the  arches  of 
its  patio,  have  given  the  exhibition  a  setting  and  tone 
entirely  distinct  from  that  which  it  could  have  gained 
in  a  more  conventional  gallery. 

Sorolla's  range  of  interest  is  very  great.  From 
sunlit  sea,  he  has  turned  to  sunlit  garden ;  has  shown 
us  opulent  Spain  in  her  happiest  moods ;  has  painted 
with  delight  whatever  has  caught  his  fancy  with  its 
dash  of  life,  its  light,  its  picturesqueness.  And  the 
great  contrasts  of  the  man's  art,  his  almost  incredible 



Playa  de  Yaler 


Cab.)  de  San  Ar 


Cosiendo  la  vela 


facility,  are  best  shown  in  turning  from  such  a  picture 
as  his  old  Castilian,  painted  with  robust  picturesque- 
ness,  to  his  exquisite  picture  "Mother." 

The  volume  and  quality  of  his  work  are  comparable 
only  to  Rubens.  Indeed,  in  their  fiery  ambition,  in 
the  fierce  necessity  for  creating,  which  each  of  the 
artists  has  felt,  as  well  as  in  their  approach  of  art 
entirely  through  outward  aspect,  one  finds  many 
points  of  resemblance  between  these  two  men. 

A  painter  of  Sorolla's  position  in  Spain  has  natu- 
rally been  called  upon  to  paint  some  portraits  of 
Spanish  royalty.  Of  the  young  King  of  Spain  he 
has  given  us  one  strong  head,  painted  in  four  hours, 
which  shows  remarkable  insight  and  analysis,  which 
is  indeed  an  historical  record  of  the  royal  sitter  before 
him.  The  portrait  is  curious  as  having  been  auto- 
graphed in  paint  by  the  king  himself,  the  monarch 
presenting  it  to  one  of  Spain's  grandees.  The  queen, 
Victoria  Eugenia,  he  has  painted  in  her  coronation 
robes,  and  of  the  heir  to  the  throne  has  given  us  a 
delightful  little  sketch.  As  far  as  possible  Sorolla 
has  abandoned  the  traditional  manner  of  painting 
royalty,  the  gold  chair,  the  background  curtain,  and 
in  the  portrait  of  the  Infanta  Isabella,  one  of  the 
most  popular  of  the  Spanish  royal  family,  has  devel- 
oped an  excellent  quality  in  quiet  gray.  And  in  black 


he  has  given  us  a  portrait  of  distinction  of  Princess 
Henry  of  Battenberg,  mother  of  the  Queen  of  Spain. 

It  is  true  of  all  artists  that  their  best  portraits  are 
never  official  portraits,  but  those  made  of  their  own 
families.  Painting  in  a  tranquil  and  familiar  atmos- 
phere those  he  knows  and  loves  best,  there  is  apt  to 
be  a  quality  of  ease  and  psychological  understanding 
in  these  portraits  not  so  generally  found  in  portraits 
painted  to  order.  It  would  be  particularly  fitting  in 
the  considering  of  these  delightful  and  intimate 
family  portraits  of  Sorolla,  to  commence  with  that 
of  his  father-in-law,  Senor  Garcia,  who  gave  him 
generous  backing  during  his  early  years.  He  is  one 
of  the  kindliest  and  simplest  of  men.  Senora  Garcia 
and  her  granddaughter  Maria  have  offered  the  theme 
for  a  quiet  and  well  characterized  portrait  that  recalls 
in  its  telling  something  of  the  color  and  manner  of 

Sorolla's  style  as  a  portrait-painter  has  been 
marked  by  four  manners  as  well  as  has  the  style  of 
his  general  work.  These  are  seen  clearly  in  four 
portraits  of  Senora  de  Sorolla.  In  his  first  style  he 
distinctly  followed  Velazquez,  whose  \vork  he  copied 
as  a  young  man.  It  is  interesting  to  note  in  this  con- 
nection that  Sorolla  does  not  now  advise  students  to 
copy  from  this  great  master  of  Spanish  art.  "Go  to 

him  and  study,  reverence  him,  but  do  not  copy  him," 
he  says.  "It  would  be  of  more  value  to  you  to  put 
up  a  basket  of  oranges  and  paint  them  than  to  repeat 
Las  Meninas." 

In  his  second  manner  Sorolla  has  become  more 
robust,  more  personal.  An  example  of  this  manner 
is  the  portrait  of  Senora  de  Sorolla  standing  beside 
a  red  chair.  This  graceful  portrait  he  considers  one 
of  his  best  works.  The  obscure  and  conventional 
brown  background  that  marked  his  earlier  portraits 
has  disappeared  and  there  is  more  of  a  tendency  to 
cool  gray  and  black. 

This  tendency  we  find  still  more  marked  in  his 
latest  portrait  done  indoors,  showing  Senora  de 
Sorolla  wearing  the  Spanish  mantilla,  a  very  power- 
ful work  of  fine  quality.  All  trace  of  Velazquez  in- 
fluence has  disappeared ;  there  is,  however,  quite  a 
hint  of  Goya  in  the  furious  painting  and  the  rich  blacks. 

His  fourth  manner  in  portrait-painting  is  one  of 
the  very  recent  developments  of  his  art  and  is  some- 
thing entirely  new  in  portraiture.  This  class  includes 
his  portraits  in  sunlight.  No  sacrifices  are  made  for 
the  head,  as  is  so  generally  done  in  the  usual  portrait. 
In  a  portrait  of  Senora  de  Sorolla  at  La  Granja,  we 
have  both  a  charming  picture  of  a  lady  by  a  fountain, 
and  a  remarkable  character  study  as  well. 


In  this  class  may  be  included  a  fine  work  of  his 
daughter  Maria,  also  painted  at  La  Granja.  It  is 
something  of  a  joke  in  the  Sorolla  family  to  say  that 
it  is  Maria  who  supports  the  family.  Her  father  has 
painted  nis  daughter  innumerable  times,  and  her  por- 
traits have  an  exceedingly  ready  sale.  From  the 
walls  of  a  hundred  public  and  private  museums  por- 
traits of  Maria  look  down,  as  well  as  do  representa 
tions  of  his  youngest  daughter,  Elena,  shown  in  the 
dainty  "Kiss"  picture.  The  Sorolla  girls  consider  it 
little  short  of  scandalous  if  a  work  painted  by  their 
father  is  not  sold  in  three  years,  and  I  have  heard 
them  joke  their  brother  because  pictures  painted  in 
which  he  is  the  center'of  interest  do  not  sell  so  well. 

Possibly  the  most  striking  of  the  portraits  in  sun- 
light of  this  painter  is  that  of  Alfonso  XIII  in  the  uni- 
form of  the  hussars.  The  King  stands  in  the  garden 
of  La  Granja.  The  glitter  of  sun,  the  sparkle  of  light 
on  gilded  military  ornaments  have  given  the  painter 
opportunity  for  remarkably  picturesque  effect. 

The  Duke  of  Alva  is  one  of  the  last  of  a  long 
series  of  the  distinguished  sitters  who  have  come 
under  Sorolla's  brush.  It  is  one  of  the  most  satis- 
factory and  most  strongly  characterized  portraits  he 
has  given  us  of  the  Spanish  nobility. 

Of  the  Don  Alejandro   Pidal  y  Mon,   statesman 

and  man  of  letters,  Sorolla  has  painted  an  excellent 
head.  It  is  interesting  as  an  example  of  what  the 
painter  can  do  in  a  single  session  of  two  hours,  the 
entire  picture  having  been  finished  in  that  time.  The 
work  is  marked  by  the  same  thoughtful  qualities  as 
those  which  characterize  a  subtle  rendering  of  Don 
Aureliano  de  Beruete,  the  Spanish  authority  on  Velaz- 

In  contrast  to  these  men  might  be  shown  most 
fittingly  a  portrait  of  Blasco  Ibanez.  With  what  skill 
the  painter  has  changed  his  technic  from  the  suave, 
fine  manner  of  the  Beruete  portrait,  to  the  brusque, 
brutal,  trenchant  style  that  aids  so  greatly  in  giving 
proper  character  to  the  burly  masculine  figure  of  the 
author  of  "Blood  and  Sand." 

In  sharp  contrast  again  is  the  nervous  sketch  of 
Franzen,  the  well-known  Spanish  photographer. 

And  no\v  let  us  in  imagination  make  a  journey 
together  to  Valencia  and  try  to  gain  some  glimpse  of 
Sorolla  painting.  It  was  at  Valencia  that  Sorolla 
was  born,  it  is  here  he  is  most  thoroughly  at  home, 
it  is  here  that  he  has  done  his  greatest  \vork.  Sorolla 
is  a  child  of  the  sun,  a  modern  Zoroastrian,  and  the 
sun  he  loves  best  is  the  burnished  orb  of  Spain's 

It  would  be  then  an  August  night,  say,  at  eight 


o'clock,  when  we  board  the  express  for  Valencia  in  the 
Estacion  del  Mediodia.  The  train  slips  through  the 
Spanish  twilight  into  velvet  night.  Past  mourning 
Aranjuez  we  go ;  the  stations  become  more  rare  and 
deserted  as  we  plunge  along.  No  longer  we  hear  the 
reedy  cry  of  the  child  selling  water,  "Agua  fresca !" 
or  the  long-drawn  wail,  "Almohadas  para  viajeros !" 
(Pillows  for  travelers).  In  the  first  dawn  we  tumble 
out  of  the  carriage  at  Albacete  to  buy  a  clasp  knife, 
the  stock  product  of  the  town.  The  sun  soars  up 
mercilessly  as  we  go  on.  As  we  pass  Jativa,  the 
early  morning  is  already  stifling  and  we  decide  crossly 
that  we  dislike  the  town  with  its  dusty  palms,  blazing 
walls,  and  hedges  of  adelfas.  At  last  the  train  pulls 
along  by  the  big  red  bull-ring  of  Valencia  and  lands 
us  in  the  Estacion  del  Norte,  one  of  the  ugliest 
railway  terminals  of  Europe. 

Before  the  door,  arid  and  uninviting,  lies  the  Plaza 
de  San  Francisco,  relieved  at  its  further  end  by  a 
mass  of  tropical  trees.  You  have  but  to  pass  this 
when,  suddenly,  you  find  yourself  in  one  of  the  most 
moving  and  picturesque  towns  of  Spain.  The  peculiar 
sparkle  and  brilliancy  of  the  place  under  its  glorious 
sun,  the  clearness  of  its  atmosphere,  the  radiance  of 
its  very  shadows,  these  seem  to  form  the  peculiar 
key-note  of  Valencia  and  of  Valencia's  beach.  There 



Playa  de  Valencia 


is  plenty  of  glare  in  the  city,  but  swinging  awnings, 
swaying  shadows  of  palms  speak  of  the  nearness  of 
the  sea.  There  is  nothing  oppressive  in  the  illumina- 
tion, as  there  is  at  Burgos,  where  the  dying  town 
lies  like  a  sick  lizard,  breathless  in  the  yellow  sun. 
And  there  is  nothing  of  the  pitiless  illumination 
of  Toledo,  where  that  shadeless  city  sits  gaunt, 
blinded  and  exposed  on  its  huge  red  cliff.  In  passing 
through  the  town  you  may  possibly  catch  a  glimpse 
of  its  great  cathedral,  of  the  picturesque  market-place 
dominated  by  the  Lonja  de  la  Seda,  and,  indeed,  if 
you  watch  sharply,  may  even  see  the  Calle  del  Pintor 
Sorolla,  an  important  street  named  by  a  grateful 
municipality  after  its  illustrious  son. 

Valencia  lies  three  miles  from  its  port.  For  thirty 
centimes  a  very  modern  electric  tram  carries  the  trav- 
eler across  the  curious  old  Puente  de  Serranos.  Be- 
low, the  river  Turia,  sun-dwindled,  sulks  along,  a 
mere  rivulet  of  heavy  water  in  its  broad  bed.  We 
pass  a  dusty  tropic  garden  and  enter  the  long  Camino 
del  Grao  with  its  bordering  plantans.  To  the  right 
we  pass  a  handsome  garden  belonging  to  Senor 
Garcia,  Sorolla's  father-in-law,  where  the  painter  has 
done  some  of  his  delightful  orange  studies;  to  the  left 
we  hear  the  resonant  din  of  an  occasional  foundry, 
gain  some  glimpse  of  a  cottage  embowered  in  adelfas. 

All  this  country  has  been  reflected  in  the  magic  mirror 
of  Sorolla's  art  with  the  extraordinary  sincerity  and 
vision  that  characterize  the  man.  No  aspect  of  the 
country  has  been  so  mean,  so  lowly,  as  to  leave  him 
cold.  I  well  remember  my  amazement  when,  as  a 
green  art  student,  trained  in  conventional  schools,  I 
took  my  first  walk  with  him  through  the  country  and 
saw  him  stop  entranced  before  a  pile  of  manure  cov- 
ered with  straw  litter,  the  whole  a  sparkle  in  morning 
light.  "Stupendous,  colossal,  magnificent !"  he  said 
with  customary  enthusiasm.  "I  am  going  to  paint  it !" 
"I  am  going  to  paint  it !"  should  be  the  crest  of  Sorolla. 
It  is  a  succinct  expression  of  the  man's  whole  soul. 

The  streets  grow  narrow  and  dirty,  teams  loaded 
with  merchandise  drag  slowly  by,  their  drivers  asleep. 
A  turn  in  the  road  and  we  are  in  the  port  itself.  This 
riffraff  of  tramp  steamers,  this  hurly-burly  of  the 
quay,  Sorolla  has  caught  in  many  of  his  pictures,  and 
he  has  devoted  many  other  canvases  to  the  motley 
array  of  fishing-boats  that  find  refuge  in  the  inner 

To  the  north  of  the  port,  the  train  brings  you  to 
Las  Arenas  ("The  Sands"),  a  fashionable  bathing 
establishment.  Across  a  foot-bridge,  and  we  are  on 
the  borderland  of  Sorolla's  beach.  Northward,  along 
the  coast,  staggers  a  slipshod  fishing  village  called  El 

Cabanal.  The  houses  are  low,  unpretentious  white- 
washed structures  that  blaze  with  color  from  door 
and  window ;  for,  "Gracias  a  Dios,"  we  are  in  Spain, 
where  a  man  may  paint  his  door  blue  and  his  window 
pink  with  impunity.  The  low  lines  of  the  fishers' 
huts  are  broken  only  here  and  there  by  the  flare  of  a 
pert  summer  villa,  looking  like  nothing  so  much  as 
a  big  bonbon.  Before  the  irregular  row  of  cottages, 
stretching  an  eighth  of  a  mile  in  width  to  the  violet 
Mediterranean,  blazes  and  shimmers  an  unbroken 
sweep  of  smooth  sand.  It  is  dotted  with  fishing  craft 
of  every  description  and  alive  with  people.  We  have 
reached  Sorolla's  real  studio. 

Perhaps  the  first  impression  made  on  one's  eye  at 
the  beach  is  the  glory  of  the  fluttering  sails  of  the 
fishing-boats  that  rest  in  a  row  by  the  edge  of  the  sea. 
Their  sails  are  curious  in  form,  doubtless  just  like 
those  of  the  Grecian  and  Phenician  craft  that  came 
to  these  sunlit  shores  so  long  ago.  The  bird-like  belly- 
ing movements  of  these  clouds  of  canvas,  as  they 
sway  drying  in  the  sun  and  wind,  have  been  a  note  that 
has  fascinated  Sorolla  and  that  he  has  reproduced 
again  and  again,  and  always  with  his  extraordinary 
facility  for  seizing  the  accidents  of  motion. 

About  these  boats  center  the  life  of  the  beach.  Per- 
haps a  boat  is  just  coming  in  and  is  being  beached  in 


the  way  peculiar  to  Valencian  folk.  Several  yoke  of 
oxen  are  driven  into  the  sea  and  hitched  to  the  boat's 
prow.  Ways  are  laid  under  the  keel,  and  then  the 
vessel  is  dragged  in  through  the  surf  to  the  sand. 

The  fishing-boat  once  on  the  sand,  the  fishing 
people  swarm  about  to  see  the  catch ;  the  children  who 
have  been  bathing  nearby  crowd  around.  It  is  a 
moment  of  chatter  and  bargaining,  of  screaming  and 
laughter.  The  beach  of  Cabanal  is  no  place  for  those 
with  weak  eyes.  The  sun  is  not  only  in  the  sky.  It 
blazes  at  us  from  the  wet  side  of  a  boat,  gleams  on 
the  silken  head-dress  of  Josepha  Maria,  glints  on  the 
fish  she  is  selling,  reflects  from  the  wet  back  of  her 
bathing  child,  is  thrown  back  by  the  curve  of  a  wave. 
The  whole  scene  is  radiant  with  light,  with  youth, 
with  the  joy  of  living. 

"Alegria  del  Agua,"  Sorolla  has  called  one  of  his 
pictures.  It  shows  a  romping  mob  of  children  racing 
into  the  sea.  "Alegria  del  Agua"  with  "Alegria  del 
Sol"  might  be  taken  for  a  description  of  Cabanal 
beach  and  for  a  description  of  Sorolla's  art  as  an 
outdoor  painter. 

What  dexterous  use  he  has  made  of  all  the  pictur- 
esque material  the  beach  offers !  Some  of  the  little 
girls  he  has  painted  in  their  wind-blown  bathing  gar- 
ments have  the  charm  of  the  delightful  figures  of 


Playa  de  Valencia 


Concha,   San  Sebastian 


Tanagra.  The  nude  little  savages  he  has  shown  dis- 
porting themselves  in  the  waves  furnish  a  rare  oppor- 
tunity to  study  his  wonderful  drawing,  the  amazing 
surety  and  simplicity  of  his  technic. 

In  the  glitter  and  gorgeousness  of  the  Valencia 
beach  there  is  one  sad  note.  At  five  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  may  be  seen  coming  through  a  country 
road  a  group  of  boys  dressed  in  the  drab  of  an  or- 
phanage, and  guided  by  two  Franciscans.  They  are 
the  offcast  children  of  wretched  parents.  Most  of 
them  are  crippled,  some  of  them  bear  the  stigmata  of 
idiocy,  many  are  totally  blind.  As  the  melancholy 
cortege  reaches  the  beach,  however,  boy  nature  asserts 
itself  against  physical  limitations.  There  is  a  thin  cry 
of  joy,  and  the  whole  pathetic,  grotesque  company 
rush  for  the  water  with  what  speed  they  can  make. 
The  moment  of  the  bath  Sorolla  has  taken  for  his 
picture  "Triste  Herencia,"  which  won  for  him  the 
grand  prize  in  Paris  and  Madrid.  "It  is  the  only  sad 
picture  I  ever  painted,"  he  says  of  it.  "I  suffered 
greatly.  I  shall  never  do  another." 

Nine  o'clock  finds  Sorolla  at  work  upon  the  beach. 
He  works  standing,  at  the  water's  edge,  his  models 
often  before  him  in  the  wash  of  the  sea.  The  Medi- 
terranean, practically  tideless,  permits  one  to  work  by 
its  side  all  the  morning  without  moving.  Back  of 

Sorolla  is  generally  arranged  a  huge  piece  of  canvas 
stretched  on  poles  and  painted  black  to  avoid  reflec- 
tions on  the  picture,  and  placed  in  such  a  way  as  to 
screen  him  from  the  unduly  curious.  At  his  feet  sits 
Pepe,  one  of  the  most  intelligent,  and  most  certainly 
the  laziest  fisherman  in  Spain.  During  the  summer, 
Pepe  serves  Sorolla,  carries  his  canvases  on  his  head, 
cleans  palettes,  searches  for  models.  At  times  Pepe 
is  himself  a  model,  and  as  Pepe  has  a  widely  assorted 
lot  of  children  of  his  own,  who  often  pose,  he  makes  a 
very  good  thing  of  his  summer.  Pepe  is  a  philos- 
opher. As  he  lies  in  the  shade  and  watches  the 
painter  work,  he  comments  on  life,  propounding  the 
theory  that  only  six  years  of  life  are  of  value,  the 
years  from  six  to  twelve.  "From  one  to  six  you  are 
a  baby,"  he  says,  "life  does  not  count.  From  six  to 
twelve  life  is  all  gold.  At  twelve  all  joy  is  ended, 
you  must  work,  you  have  responsibility."  And,  sigh- 
ing heavily,  he  lights  another  cigarette  of  abominable 
tobacco,  and  rolls  back  further  into  the  shade. 

One  wonders  which  is  more  pitiless,  the  sun  above, 
or  the  furnace  of  the  sands  beneath.  A  wind  from 
the  sea  brings  no  comfort,  and,  indeed,  only  prevents 
keeping  up  a  sun  umbrella.  All  day  long,  and  every 
day  in  the  summer,  Sorolla  paints  calmly  on  in  the 
sun,  in  a  heat  that  often  reaches  no  in  the  shade. 



It  is  a  trial  by  fire  for  any  northern  born  student  who 
tries  to  keep  up  the  tremendous  pace.  Sometimes  at 
five  o'clock,  after  six  and  a  half  hours  of  this  paint- 
ing, Sorolla  begins  another  study  by  the  sea,  and 
paints  until  sunset.  He  has  done  this  for  twenty-five 
years.  Can  this  explain  some  of  the  wonder  of 
his  technic?  "Have  you  worked?"  "Have  you 
worked?"  is  the  insistent  question  he  is  constantly 
putting  to  a  student,  even  though  long  since  he  has 
learned  that  the  student  leaves  no  hour  unoccupied. 

It  is  a  most  interesting  thing  to  see  Sorolla  paint- 
ing. I  will  tell  you  a  little  incident  of  his  work 
typical  of  the  man.  Once,  after  a  tremendous  day, 
at  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  Sorolla  began  on  an- 
other study  of  a  little  girl  entering  the  sea.  To  make 
his  picture  less  a  figure  study,  he  decided  to  put  three 
little  children  in  the  sea.  Two  little  girls  and  a  boy 
waded  into  the  water  hand  in  hand,  laughing,  mak- 
ing no  particular  effort  to  stand  still.  They  were,  in- 
deed, washed  here  and  there  by  the  waves.  Sorolla 
painted  the  three  wet  figures,  gleaming  in  the  gold  of 
the  setting  sun,  in  fifteen  minutes.  It  was  a  marvelous 
display  of  master  painting.  At  twilight  I  went  down 
the  beach  to  put  my  painting  things  in  a  shack  for  the 
night.  In  the  darkness  of  the  place  I  heard  groaning. 
Stretched  at  full  length,  face  down  on  the  dirt  floor, 


was  a  Spanish  student  of  Sorolla,  who  had  been  with 
me  but  a  short  time  before,  watching  the  painter. 
I  thought  he  had  a  sunstroke,  and  was  seriously 

Suddenly,  the  young  fellow  turned  on  me  fiercely : 
"Did  you  see  Sorolla  paint  those  children?"  he  cried. 

"Do  you  ever  think  you  can  learn  to  paint  like 

And  then,  without  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  bawled : 
"You  can't,  I  can't,  nobody  else  can !  He  don't  know 
himself  how  he  paints.  He  just  paints  as  a  cow  eats !" 
A  superficial  study  of  Sorolla's  painting  might 
lead  one  to  think  Francisco  was  right.  He  paints  ap- 
parently without  any  worry  or  preoccupation,  very, 
very  fast,  and  with  tremendous  surety.  "I  could  not 
paint  at  all  if  I  had  to  paint  slowly,"  he  says.  "Every 
effect  is  so  transient,  it  must  be  rapidly  painted."  He 
grasps  in  a  few  searching  strokes  an  accidental  move- 
ment, a  fleeting  expression,  a  retreating  wave.  There 
seems  to  be  no  mistake,  no  undoing.  His  picture 
builds  steadily  to  completion.  Most  of  his  pictures 
are  painted  in  from  four  to  six  mornings,  many  in 
one  or  two.  He  does  not  arrange  in  his  mind  before 
he  starts  what  sort  of  a  picture  he  is  to  get.  One  of 
his  most  common  criticisms  of  a  pupil's  \vork  is,  "This 

196  A 

Playa  de  Valencia 


looks  fixed  up,  as  if  you  had  an  idea  before  you 
started  of  what  you  would  make  of  the  scene.  Go  to 
nature  with  no  parti  pris.  You  should  not  know 
what  your  picture  is  to  look  like  until  it  is  done." 

"Just  see  the  picture  that  is  coming,"  he  says  often 
of  his  canvases,  as  they  are  being  built  up,  exactly  as 
a  photographer,  in  developing  a  plate,  watches  with 
suspense  emerge  on  the  film  the  scene  he  photo- 
graphed. His  big  pictures  are  painted  in  almost  the 
same  way.  There  is  no  elaborate  composition  sketch. 
A  German  firm  once  wrote  with  a  view  to  buying  the 
original  sketch  for  the  picture  "Beaching  the  Boats." 
"There  was  none,"  he  replied.  His  big  pictures  are 
worked  directly  from  nature  in  a  shack  built  by  the 

Francisco  was  wrong  in  thinking  that  Sorolla  does 
not  know  how  he  paints.  The  ease  and  brilliancy  of 
his  work  blinds  us  at  first  view  to  all  evidences  of  long 
and  thoughtful  training.  Always  back  of  his  paint- 
ing is  that  twenty-five  years  in  which  he  has  painted 
and  smoked  a  great  deal,  eaten  and  slept  a  little. 
Than  this  Sorolla  does  nothing.  In  the  development 
of  his  work,  everything  has  been  studied,  everything 
has  been  watched,  all  false  paths  avoided,  every  dan- 
ger met.  A  student  said  to  Sorolla,  "I  have  arrived 
fairly  well  in  drawing,  fairly  well  in  the  technic  of 


painting,  but  in  the  regard  for  drawing  and  painting 
when  working  from  nature,  I  find  it  difficult  to  look 
out  for  fine  quality." 

"Ah !  That  is  the  last  thing  one  arrives  at,"  said 
Sorolla.  Then  he  tapped  his  forehead.  "It  is  here 
you  do  it,"  he  said. 

One  hundred  miles  south  of  Valencia,  a  little  used 
narrow-gage  railway  brings  us  through  an  opulent 
country  to  a  shack  of  a  railway-station  known  as 
Vergel.  The  only  train  that  brings  you  there  in  the 
day  arrives  exactly  at  noon.  From  the  station  there 
is  nothing  to  see  save  a  miserable  fonda  across  the 
way  and  a  blazing  white  road  that  stretches  away  in 
radiant  sunlight  across  the  treeless  plain.  That 
twelve-mile  ride  in  the  tumble-down  Vergel  diligence 
is  not  a  tempting  prospect,  but  it  is  the  opening  of  the 
door  of  Javea,  a  hidden  Paradise  where  Sorolla  has 
done  a  great  part  of  his  outdoor  work. 

Those  twelve  miles  are  very,  very  long.  The  dust 
powders  you  as  white  as  it  has  silvered  the  vineyard 
by  the  wayside.  The  fat  lady  who  has  come  with  her 
maid  to  spend  two  weeks  in  the  country  with  her 
family,  cries,  "Dios,  que  calor,"  and  swears  by  all  the 
saints  that  the  climate  is  changing  and  that  the  sum- 
mers are  surely  warmer  than  when  she  was  a  girl. 
Her  servant  pulls  close  the  curtains  of  the  crazy  vehi- 


cle  to  keep  out  the  light  and  the  dust.  We  lumber 
through  many  a  Spanish  village  with  its  white-washed 
walls,  gay  doors  and  windows,  dominating  church, 
staring  faces.  What  strikes  one  as  very  curious  is  to 
find  electric  lights  in  most  of  these  villages  that  are 
absolutely  without  other  evidence  of  modern  civiliza- 
tion. Ahead  of  one  in  the  plain  looms  Mongo,  a 
mountain  of  naked  rock.  For  it,  the  road  makes  a 
vast  detour,  and  at  the  crest  of  a  little  hill  we  look 
at  last  upon  Javea. 

An  Arab  town,  is  your  first  thought.  In  a  con- 
fused mass  of  white-walled  houses,  half- revealed  rose 
gardens  and  beaten,  unpaved  roads,  the  town  creeps 
down  to  its  beach.  The  violet  of  the  bay  is  held  at 
the  sides  by  the  splendor  of  two  great  capes,  San 
Antonio  and  Nao.  Their  walls  of  rock  sweep  far  out 
into  the  sea  and  form  the  most  eastern  projection  of 
Spain  in  the  Mediterranean.  Blocked  from  north  and 
south  by  these  sentinels,  backed  by  Mongo,  the  town 
sleeps  as  though  lulled  by  its  hushing  sea,  by  the 
sighing  cypresses  about  its  well-trodden  calvary.  The 
town  has  no  hotel ;  Baedeker  is  unknown.  A  slat- 
tern woman,  at  one  wretched  place,  after  prodigious 
scurrying  about  by  her  husband  to  buy  provisions, 
serves  you  two  fried  eggs,  a  piece  of  cold  fish,  and 
some  black  olives. 

A  walk  through  the  town  will  take  you  past  some 
of  the  great  raisin  warehouses.  Inside,  in  the  semi- 
gloom,  hundreds  of  women  are  stemming  raisins  for 
shipment  to  England.  As  they  work,  they  sing  in 
honor  of  the  Virgin  a  dragging  canticle  that  echoes 
through  the  ancient  arches  of  the  place  and  out  into 
the  still  afternoon  air. 

Life  is  in  every  way  most  primitive  and  living  is 
very  cheap.  A  furnished  house  near  the  quay  may  be 
rented  for  eleven  cents  a  day,  but  beware,  unless  you 
bring  an  establishment  of  servants  with  you  from 
Madrid,  you  may  find  little  to  eat.  There  is  no  ice, 
and  little  meat.  Butter  is  a  messy  mass  brought  in  a 
tin  from  Switzerland,  or  even  Denmark,  and  served 
day  after  day  in  the  same  tin  until  it  becomes  a  rancid 
offense.  Inquiry  elicits  a  fabled  report  that  a  certain 
very  rich  man  actually  has  some  cows  on  a  farm  far 
away,  but  that  their  milk  is  precious  beyond  selling, 
and  is  sent  only  as  a  gift  of  great  price  to  those  far 
gone  in  sickness.  Goats'  milk  only  may  be  had.  An- 
tonio drives  the  goats  to  your  place  and  milks  them 
just  before  your  breakfast,  and  the  milk  is  drunk 
warm  before  it  spoils  with  the  heat.  "My  milk  is 
better  than  Vicente's,"  says  the  goatherd.  "I  know 
best  the  places  in  the  mountain  where  there  is  grass." 
This  he  says  with  the  air  of  a  botanist  announcing 

Playa  de  Valencia 

Playa  de  Valencia 



Playa  de  Valencia 

Playa  de  Valencia 


the  secret  of  a  bed  of  rarest  orchids.  Meat  is  covered 
thick  with  salt,  and  hung-  in  a  tin  pail  down  a  well. 
A  hapless  artist  who  would  perforce  live  near  the 
sea,  must  throw  himself  on  the  mercy  of  Paquita, 
who  may  or  may  not  be  willing  to  cook  for  him  in  the 
back  room  of  her  grocery.  Without  butter,  every- 
thing is  fried  or  boiled  with  olive  oil.  The  cooking 
is  done  out  of  doors  over  a  tiny  fire  of  twigs.  The 
fish  is  delightful,  so  are  the  melons,  but  strange, 
crawly  things  of  the  sea  are  served,  whose  like  you 
have  only  before  seen  in  alcohol  bottles  in  zoological 
museums.  Occasionally,  on  opening  a  soup  tureen, 
you  find  floating  on  the  surface  of  the  oil  soup  a  good- 
sized  fish,  boiled,  head  and  all.  Its  single  visible  eye 
stares  at  you  glassily,  and  you  replace  the  cover  of 
the  dish  and  turn  to  find  what  further  adventure  din- 
ner may  bring  you. 

Javea  is  the  ideal  place  for  a  painter.  There  are  no 
newspapers,  no  letters,  no  engagements.  One  paints 
from  dawn  to  dusk.  It  is  the  huge,  tawny  rocks  of 
the  place  under  the  pitiless  and  searching  illumination 
of  the  sun  of  Alicante  that  supply  the  characteristic 
paintable  note  of  the  place.  Here  Sorolla  has  shown 
us  wonderful  studies  of  the  children  of  the  port  at 
play,  as  in  the  remarkable  study  of  the  boy  hunting 
mussels.  These  happy  little  savages  play  about  all 

day  in  a  freedom  undisturbed  by  problems  of  primary 
education.  "Is  there  a  river  between  New  York 
and  England?"  asked  a  sixteen-year-old  girl,  at 
Javea,  "or  is  London  separated  from  England  only 
by  mountains?"  It  was  in  the  limpid  waters  of  this 
port  that  Sorolla  undertook  the  solution  of  a  problem 
of  the  swirl  of  sun-pierced  water  about  a  human 
figure.  Of  this  subject  he  made  several  preliminary 
studies,  and  then  in  four  afternoons  of  brisk  work  pro- 
duced his  large  canvas.  The.  composition  for  this 
picture  \vas  scrawled  on  the  side  of  his  house  in 
charcoal  wrhile  servants  were  busy  stretching  the  big 
canvas  for  the  work.  The  picture  was  painted,  of 
course,  directly  from  nature,  the  stretcher  being  tied 
with  ropes  to  some  posts  which  had  been  arranged 
temporarily  on  a  ledge  of  rock,  first  chiseled  smooth 
for  the  purpose.  Six  urchins  served  in  relays  as 
models,  three  swimming  round  and  round  for  the 
painter,  while  three  rested  and  warmed  themselves 
in  the  sun.  Of  his  own  family  bathing  among  the 
rocks  of  Javea  he  has  shown  us  some  delightful  pic- 
tures, that  reflect  all  the  gaiety,  radiant  happiness,  and 
intimacy  of  the  scene.  Plunging  about  in  the  swing- 
ing sea  and  clear  waters  of  these  secret  glens,  with 
the  laughter  of  the  Sorolla  children  echoing  back 
from  the  rocks  about,  it  seems  impossible  to  believe 



Patio  del  Cabanal 


En  el  rio 

Puerto  de  Valencia 


e  Valencia 


that  there  is  anything  in  the  world  but  youth  and 
laughter  and  success.  The  colors  at  Javea  are  almost 
unbelievable.  Above,  a  cloudless  sky  of  violet-blue  is 
broken  by  the  mounting  yellow  walls  of  Cabo  San 
Antonio,  all  about  the  rock  formations  are  brilliant 
with  imbedded  stones  of  every  hue,  while  every  swirl 
of  the  water  discovers  a  wealth  of  color  in  the  swing- 
ing, growing  plants  that  find  their  home  in  the  sea. 

"I  can't  paint  that,"  "I  can't  paint  that,"  Sorolla 
often  says  of  these  incidents  at  Javea.  "Everybody 
would  only  say  it  was  made  up  in  the  studio."  And 
then  he  adds,  "As  far  as  outdoor  work  is  concerned, 
a  studio  is  only  a  garage ;  a  place  in  which  to  store 
pictures  and  repair  them,  never  a  place  in  which  to 
paint  them." 

Spain's  eastern  coast  has  not  always  held  the  atten- 
tion of  the  artist.  In  his  earlier  manner  he  has  given 
us  some  canvases  full  of  the  quiet  charm  of  Asturias 
and  Galicia,  with  their  English-like  landscape  of 
sloping  hillside  and  opulent  trees.  The  somber  hills 
and  mountains  near  Segovia  have  given  him  their 
quota  of  subjects  and  the  quiet  restraint  of  the  pic- 
tures form  a  sharp  contrast  to  the  opulent  blaze  of  the 
greater  part  of  his  work.  One  summer  at  least  found 
him  at  worldly  Biarritz,  for  which  as  a  whole  he  had 
little  sympathy.  Painting  with  the  charm  with  which 

he  always  depicts  his  children,  he  shows  us  his  house- 
hold on  an  afternoon  walk  upon  the  cliffs  near  the 
lighthouse.  The  work  has  all  the  idle  accident,  the 
informality,  the  ease  and  intimacy  of  the  scene  itself. 
A  lady  amusing  herself  with  amateur  photography 
has  supplied  him  with  a  brilliant  opportunity  for  sun- 
light painting,  as  well  as  has  an  extraordinary  study 
of  his  daughter  Maria  against  the  chaos  of  a  sunlit 

Two  of  the  great  historic  cities  of  Spain  have  also 
been  revealed  by  his  brush,  Toledo  and  Sevilla. 
Toledo  was  visited  during  the  winter  and  the  studies 
made  there  lack  the  fierce  edge  of  sun  that  the  sum- 
mer traveler  associates  with  this  town.  For  poetic 
charm,  for  the  amazing  sincerity  of  his  style,  these 
studies  are  unsurpassed.  It  seems  unbelievable  that 
results  so  subtile,  so  exquisite  could  be  obtained  with 
brush-marks  so  few  and  so  broad.  He  has  seized  at 
once  the  atmosphere  of  blood  and  grimness  and  death, 
of  splendor,  parade,  and  decay  that  characterize  this 
place  and  crystallized  them  in  such  a  study,  for  exam- 
ple, as  that  of  the  Puente  de  Alcantara,  with  its  sug- 
gestion of  the  sluggish  Tagus  below,  its  hint  of 
frowning  walls  above.  One  of  the  most  picturesque 
bridges  of  Toledo  is  the  old  fortified  bridge  of  San 
Martin,  with  its  entrances  commanded  by  two  great 

Playa  de  Valencia 

Playa  de  Valencia 

Playa  de  Valencia 


stone  towers.  The  ravine  of  the  Tagus  here  reaches 
a  considerable  depth,  and  from  the  bridge  a  splendid 
view  offers  of  the  sun-scarred  country  about.  Sorolla 
has  shown  us  with  unrivaled  skill  the  tumble-down 
ruin  of  San  Servando,  on  its  deserted  hillside,  and  has 
taken  us  into  the  house  in  which  the  mystic  Greco 
dreamed  and  painted,  and  in  which  he  died. 

Twice  he  has  painted  within  royal  precincts,  first 
at  Sevilla,  where  he  was  commanded  to  paint  portraits 
of  the  Queen  and  the  heir  to  the  throne.  Here  he 
painted  a  jewel-like  series  of  pictures  of  the  Alcazar 
or  old  Moorish  palace.  This  series  is  the  most  deco- 
rative of  all  his  productions.  Sorolla's  joy  in  the 
pleasant  things  of  life  is  shown  clearly  in  his  love  of 
gardens,  and  of  these  subjects  alone  he  has  painted 
enough  pictures  to  have  equaled  the  lifework  of  an- 
other artist.  His  pictures  of  these  opulent  oriental 
courts,  with  their  roses  and  orange  trees,  their  fervid 
color,  their  heat,  will  carry  many  of  us  back  in 
memory  to  holidays  spent  in  that  most  marvelous, 
most  beautiful  of  Spanish  cities,  Sevilla.  The  man's 
preeminence  in  outdoor  work,  the  unrivaled  prismatic 
splendor  of  his  color,  can  best  be  judged  by  comparing 
this  series  of  studies  with  results  which  other  artists 
have  obtained  in  this  most  painted  of  palaces. 

In  contrast  to  the  oriental  color  and  quality  of 

these  Moorish  courts,  \ve  turn  to  the  mournful  pomp 
of  La  Gran j a,  with  the  desolate  splendor  of  that 
eighteenth-century  garden  built  by  a  homesick  French- 
man in  memory  of  Versailles.  Few  of  Sorolla's 
canvases  have  greater  feeling  than  these  renderings 
of  haunted  garden,  of  dilapidated  fountain.  How 
admirable  is  his  drawing  of  this  rippling  water.  It 
shows  the  same  careful  observation,  the  same  search 
for  anatomy  that  we  find  he  devotes  to  the  telling  of 
the  turn  of  an  arm,  the  curve  of  a  shoulder.  And  at 
La  Gran  j  a  he  has  given  us  one  unforgetable  picture 
of  little  children  at  their  bath  in  the  trout  stream  that 
flows  by  the  palace  grounds. 

It  would  be  fitting  to  close  our  series  of  pictures, 
this  evening,  with  the  last  work  the  artist  painted 
before  coming  to  America,  a  superb  decorative  canvas, 
showing  his  two  daughters  dressed  in  the  Valencian 
costume  of  1808,  and  on  horseback.  It  was  painted,  as 
are  all  his  works,  directly  from  nature,  the  two  girls 
being  mounted  on  a  horse  held  by  a  servant,  in  the 
garden  of  their  Madrid  house. 

Sorolla  is  but  forty-six  years  old.  He  is  in  the 
height  of  his  power,  the  height  of  his  success.  In 
his  sane  and  illuminating  art  there  is  no  trace  of 
decadence,  of  weakening,  or  of  carelessness.  Success 
has  brought  the  man  nothing  of  pose  or  of  relaxation. 


Malvas  reales 


Los  geranic 

Altar  de  San  Vicente,  Valencia 


Feverish  energy,  tremendous  health,  great  keenness 
of  mind,  all  these  are  still  his  great  endowments.  For 
him  the  star  of  ambition  shines  fiercely,  dimming  all 
else  on  his  horizon :  he  is  endowed  with  that  consum- 
ing creative  passion  characteristic  of  genius.  The 
future  is  his. 

I  know  of  no  more  fitting  way  to  close  my  remarks 
on  this  great  painter,  this  evening,  than  by  quoting  in 
his  regard  the  beautiful  legend  engraved  on  the  medal 
of  the  Hispanic  Society  of  America,  to  whose  public 
spirit  and  enlightenment  the  American  people  and 
Sorolla  owe  so  much. 

"Blessed  are  those  whom  genius  has  inspired.  They 
are  like  stars.  They  rise  and  set.  They  have  the  wor- 
ship of  the  world,  but  no  repose." 

Playa  de  Valencia 



Playa  de  Valencia 


.,..—    TW*^... 

Mercado  de  Lee 


(The  Evening  Post,  February  4,  1909.) 


SIR:  May  I  add  a  few  words  to  the  announcement 
made  in  your  issue  of  last  Saturday  of  the  approach- 
ing exhibition  of  the  paintings  by  Senor  Sorolla  y 
Bastida,  at  the  Spanish  Museum?  In  1906  a  similar 
exhibition  of  some  400  canvases  electrified  Paris.  It 
was  my  privilege  to  see  it  more  than  once,  and  the 
uplifting  impression  then  received  was  never  to  be 

Sorolla  is  a  past  master  of  everything  that  is 
joyous  in  art.  His  color  is  brilliant  and  sane,  his 
technic  virile  and  sure,  and  his  versatility  amazing. 
He  covers,  with  almost  equal  touch,  the  whole  field 
of  easel  art— portraits,  landscapes,  delightful  studies 
of  child-life  out  of  doors,  and  noble  animal  studies, 
the  latter  being  the  subject  of  the  large  canvas  owned 
by  the  Luxembourg,  of  oxen  towing  a  boat  ashore. 

1  The  following  are  only  a  few  chosen  from  many,  of  which 
others  would  doubtless  equally  invite  reproduction. 


Sorolla  is  a  man  in  middle  life  who  has  trodden 
the  road  to  fame  very  modestly,  but  surely.  With 
the  exception  of  Goya,  who  revolutionized  modern 
art,  and  to  whom  he  owes  much,  Sorolla  y  Bastida 
stands  in  the  estimate  of  many  next  to  Velazquez  in 
the  list  of  Spanish  masters. 

J.  G.  MOTTET. 

(The  Evening  Post,  February  4,   1909.) 

IF  the  New  York  public  does  not  take  advantage  of 
the  exhibition  of  Sorolla  y  Bastida's  pictures  at  the 
Hispanic-American  Museum,  it  will  gain  a  well 
deserved  reputation  for  having  no  love  for  really 
great  art.  The  exhibition  is  the  most  important  we 
have  had  for  many  a  long  day.  For  two  months  men 
have  been  at  work  gutting  the  museum  of  its  Spanish 
treasures  to  provide  room  for  the  pictures  which  now 
occupy  the  alcoves  on  the  floor  of  the  hall  and  the 
walls  of  the  gallery  above.  An  immense  amount  of 
artificial  light  has  been  provided,  and  by  some  it  was 
thought  that  the  electric  lights  gave  the  sun-lit  paint- 
ings a  fictitious  brilliancy.  But  it  was  our  privilege 
to  see  some  of  the  Valencia  beach  scenes  without  the 


Playa  de  Valenci 


Playa  de  Valencia 


Playa  de  Valencia 

aid  of  artificial  light,  and  they  did  not  lose  one  iota 
of  their  brilliant  tone.  One  Hundred  and  Fifty-sixth 
Street  sounds  very  like  the  other  end  of  the  world, 
but  it  takes  less  than  half  an  hour  by  a  Broadway 
express  on  the  subway  from  Forty-second  Street  to 
One  Hundred  and  Fifty-seventh  Street. 

A  FEW  words  about  Joaquin  Sorolla  y  Bastida.  He 
is  a  modest  little  fellow,  who  talks  no  English  and 
not  much  French.  He  will  enter  his  forty-seventh 
year  the  end  of  this  month.  He  was  born  in  Va- 
lencia, was  left  an  orphan  when  he  was  two  years 
old,  both  parents  being  carried  off  by  cholera,  and 
was  adopted  by  an  aunt,  the  wife  of  a  locksmith.  At 
school  he  spent  much  of  his  time  making  drawings  in 
his  copy-books,  and  was  actually  encouraged  by  the 
master.  As  he  made  no  progress  in  his  lessons,  his 
uncle  took  him  away  from  school  and  placed  him  in 
his  workshop,  but  allowed  him  to  attend  drawing 
classes,  and,  at  the  age  of  fifteen,  he  was  permitted  to 
devote  himself  entirely  to  art.  He  became  a  student 
at  the  academy  at  Valencia,  and  almost  immediately 
won  the  prize  for  coloring,  drawing  from  the  model, 
and  perspective.  A  gentleman  named  Garcia,  whose 
daughter  Sorolla  afterward  married,  became  inter- 
ested in  the  youth,  and  enabled  him  to  remain  for 

several  years  at  the  academy.  When  he  first  exhib- 
ited at  Madrid  his  pictures  attracted  no  attention 
until  he  showed  "The  Second  of  May,"  a  scene  of  the 
Spanish  War  of  Independence,  which  contained  the 
striking  innovation  of  having  been  painted  in  the 
open  air.  Sorolla  won  a  scholarship  which  took  him 
to  Rome;  thence  he  went  to  Paris,  where  the  works 
of  Menzel  and  Bastien-Lepage  opened  his  eyes  to  the 
revolution  that  was  going  on  in  art.  It  was  "The 
Fishing  Boat's  Return,"  exhibited  at  the  Salon  in 
Paris  and  purchased  by  the  Luxembourg,  that  first 
gave  Sorolla  a  world-wide  fame.  The  "Beaching  of 
the  Boat"  (318),  in  the  exhibition  at  the  Hispanic- 
American  Museum,  repeats  the  same  motive  on  a 
larger  scale.  The  walls  of  the  museum  tell  the  rest 
of  his  artistic  career. 

(From  the  New  York  Herald,  February  5,  1909.) 



PAINTINGS   by   Mr.    Joaquin    Sorolla   y   Bastida,   a 
leader  in   art   in   Spain,   were  placed  on  exhibition 

Playa  de  Valencia 


Huerta  de  Valencia 

Playa  de  Valencia 


Playa  de  Valencia 


yesterday  in  the  museum  of  the  Hispanic  Society,  at 
Broadway  and  1 56th  Street. 

Here  is  a  "one  man  show,"  of  almost  huge  dimen- 
sions, for  Mr.  Sorolla  displays  356  canvases,  eighteen 
more  than  could  be  hung  in  the  space  available  for 
the  last  exhibition  of  the  National  Academy  of  De- 
sign. The  museum  is  not  quite  adapted  for  the 
showing  of  so  large  a  collection,  but  skilful  use  of 
artificial  light  has  adequately  answered  the  purpose 
of  the  exhibition,  which  is  to  give  to  New  York  an 
idea  of  the  art  of  one  of  Spain's  greatest  painters. 

Mr.  Sorolla  is  no  faddist ;  he  does  not  proclaim  him- 
self as  the  head  of  any  school.  He  goes  his  own  way 
into  the  realm  of  a  cheerful  realism.  To  tell  in 
detail  of  the  pictures  which  hang  upon  the  dark  walls 
of  the  museum  would  be  like  reviewing  an  exhibition 
of  the  works  of  many  artists,  all  painting  with  con- 
summate skill  yet  with  variations  of  style.  Here  Mr. 
Sorolla  wields  his  brush  broadly,  and  there  with 
smoothness.  He  covers  this  canvas  thick  with  paint 
and  again  leaves  the  texture  of  it  scarcely  concealed. 
Here  he  tends  toward  French  impressionism ;  there 
he  paints  with  the  exactitude  of  the  early  English 
portrait-painters.  The  dominant  note  of  the  exhibi- 
tion is  sincerity  and  earnestness. 

Everything  in  this  world  seems  to  appeal  to  Mr. 


Sorolla.  He  limns  king  and  peasant,  youth  and  age, 
health  and  faltering  disease,  the  palace  and  the 
raisin  shed,  the  gardens  where  pleasant  fountains 
flow  and  the  barren  dust  heap.  In  all  that  he  does  he 
is  a  master. 

Six  portraits  of  members  of  the  royal  family  of 
Spain  are  in  the  collection.  King  Alfonso  is  shown 
in  the  brilliant  uniform  of  the  hussars- and  again  in 
the  garb  of  the  artillery.  There  is  a  charming  like- 
ness of  the  young  Queen  and  nestling  in  his  crib  with 
only  his  small  red  face  revealed  is  the  heir  to  the 
Spanish  throne,  the  young  Prince  of  the  Asturias. 
There  are  also  portraits  of  the  Infanta  of  Spain  and 
Princess  Henry  of  Battenberg. 

For  the  remainder  of  the  exhibition  it  may  be  said 
that  its  subject  is  all  humanity.  Although  the  art  of 
Mr.  Sorolla  is  that  which  conceals  art,  his  wonder- 
ful technic  triumphs  in  a  greater  degree  when  he 
paints  children  swimming  or  playing  in  the  surf  or 
along  the  beaches.  There  are  several  canvases  which 
depict  nude  youngsters  swimming,  and  so  naturally 
are  the  tints  and  the  texture  of  the  flesh  represented 
and  all  the  values  of  greenish  water  given  that  the 
effect  is  as  though  one  were  actually  looking  from  a 
window  upon  a  coast  where  children  were  at  nata- 
torial play. 


Playa  de  Valencia 


i*;."  U'jJ'*  >;''">  "  •  ''^ai^^&aE^ 

Playa  de  Valenci 


Playa  de  Valencis 


Flaya  de  Valencia 


In  the  "Old  Castilian"  Mr.  Sorolla  appears  as  a 
genius  in  genre,  while  in  "The  Sad  Inheritance,"  a 
painting  lent  by  the  Church  of  the  Ascension,  he 
sounds  the  depths  of  pathos.  Taken  all  in  all  his  art 
lives  in  the  sunshine  even  when  it  is  sad. 

Among  the  canvases  especially  distinguished  by  the 
grace  and  beauty  of  their  subjects  is  "In  the  Gardens 
of  La  Granja." 

(The  New  York  Times,  February  5,  1909.) 

SOROLLA  Y  BASTIDA,  whose  works  are  to  be  seen  at  a 
private  view  this  week,  and  are  to  be  on  public  ex- 
hibition at  the  Hispanic  Museum,  1 56th  Street,  west 
of  Broadway,  from  February  8th  until  March  8th, 
is  one  of  the  most  important  of  the  followers  of  the 
great  artists  of  ancient  Spain,  and  the  opportunity  to 
enjoy  his  pictures  in  this  country  is  one  more  of  those 
happily  increasing  opportunities  which  not  only 
broaden  international  sympathies  but  stimulate  the 
love  of  art  among  our  own  people. 

Seiior  Sorolla  was  born  at  Valencia,  in  Spain,  in 
1863,  and  began  seriously  to  study  art  at  the  age  of 
fifteen.  He  studied  at  the  academy  of  his  birthplace 
for  several  years,  and  won  a  scholarship  which  en- 


titled  him  to  a  period  of  study  in  Italy.  He  visited 
Paris  also,  where  he  was  profoundly  impressed  by 
two  exhibitions  in  the  French  capital  at  the  time— 
one  of  the  work  of  Bastien-Lepage  and  the  other  of 
the  work  of  the  German,  Menzel.  In  Italy  he  copied 
the  old  Italian  masters  and  in  Madrid  he  copied  Ve- 
lazquez and  Ribera,  all  of  which  work  went  to  the 
strengthening  of  his  technical  capacity  without  inter- 
fering with  his  personal  message. 

His  personal  message  is  a  national  one  as  well. 
His  work  has  the  stamp  of  his  race.  He  is  nearer  to 
Goya  than  to  Velazquez,  but  is  wholly  without  Goya's 
cruelty  of  temper  and  brutality  of  vision.  His  Spain 
is  a  pleasant  country,  populated  by  kindly,  intelligent 
people,  and  he  depicts  both  the  country  and  the  people 
with  a  genial  warmth  of  sympathy  and  an  apprecia- 
tion of  the  gayer  side  of  life  that  is  at  once  stimu- 
lating and  soothing. 

His  portraits  are  grave  or  brilliant  in  treatment  as 
the  subject  demands,  but  are  invariably  spontaneous 
and  filled  with  the  spirit  of  life.  Among  them  are 
many  personages  interesting  for  the  place  they  occupy 
in  the  Spanish  world  as  well  as  for  their  interpreta- 
tion by  the  painter.  There  are  six  portraits  of  mem- 
bers of  the  royal  family— two  of  Alfonso  XIII,  that 
in  the  uniform  of  artillery  having  a  look  of  the  Phil- 



Mujeres  jugando 



Playa  de  Valencia 

ips  in  Velazquez's  patient  record  of  royalty;  one  of 
the  Queen  of  Spain,  one  of  the  Princess  Henry  of 
Battenberg,  and  one  of  the  Infanta.  And  there  is  a 
bewitching  portrait  of  the  baby  Prince  of  the  Astu- 
rias.  There  is  also  the  Senor  D.  Raimundo  de  Ma- 
drazo,  an  eminent  portrait-painter,  and  there  is  the 
Senor  D.  Alejandro  Pidal  y  Mon,  a  statesman  and 
man  of  letters,  who  looks  his  great  distinction  and 
who  in  addition  to  his  accomplishments  is  noted  as 
the  possessor  of  the  unique  manuscript  of  the  poem 
of  the  Cid.  There  are  Senor  Menendez  y  Pelayo, 
the  most  eminent  living  scholar  in  Spain,  and  Senor 
de  Beruete,  whose  work  on  Velazquez  is  the  supreme 
authority;  also  the  Marques  de  la  Vega-Ynclan,  who 
is  head  of  the  royal  stables  and  who  has  founded  a 
museum  of  El  Greco  at  Madrid,  and  other  personages 
not  less  important. 

Discussion  of  the  paintings,  which  number  more 
than  three  hundred  and  fifty,  must  be  deferred  to  a 
later  notice.  The  exhibition  is  too  vital  an  introduc- 
tion to  the  modern  art  of  Spain  to  be  summed  up  in 
a  few  words  or  in  one  impression. 


{The  Evening  Post,  February  5,  1909.) 



THE  New  York  public  will  owe  a  deep  debt  of  grati- 
tude to  The  Hispanic  Society  for  giving  it  an  oppor- 
tunity of  seeing  the  paintings  of  a  Spanish  artist, 
Sorolla  y  Bastida  of  Valencia,  whose  work  has  in  the 
last  few  years  created  much  enthusiasm  in  the  art 
world  of  Europe.  The  exhibition,  now  on  private 
view  in  the  building  of  the  Hispanic  Society  of  Amer- 
ica, on  One  Hundred  and  Fifty-sixth  Street,  west  of 
Broadway,  will  be  open  to  the  public,  free  of  charge, 
on  Monday  next,  and  will  remain  open  until  March 
8th,  Sundays  included,  between  the  hours  of  1 1  A.  M. 
and  9  P.  M.  No  one  who  appreciates  great  painting 
should  miss  seeing  the  exhibition,  for  Sorolla  is  a 
very  great  painter;  not  one  of  his  brother  artists,  not 
one  amateur  of  art,  who  has  seen  his  work,  but  ranks 
him  among  the  greatest  painters  of  the  day. 

Sorolla  is  preeminently  a  realist  and  an  open-air 

painter.     His  first  important  work,  "The  Second  of 

May,"  painted  in  1884,  representing  the  resistance  of 

the  people  of  Madrid  to  the  French  in  the  War  of  In- 

£160  ] 

Playa  de  Valenci 


Playa  de  Valenci 


dependence  of  1808,  struck  a  new  note.  It  was 
painted  in  the  open  air. 

"I  hate  darkness,"  he  will  tell  yon.  "Claude  Monet 
once  said  that  painting  in  general  did  not  have  light 
enough  in  it.  I  agree  with  him.  We  painters,  how- 
ever, can  never  reproduce  sunlight  as  it  really  is.  I 
can  only  approach  the  truth  of  it."  And  again.  "I  do 
not  care  to  paint  portraits  indoors.  I  cannot  feel 

There  are  in  the  exhibition  350  paintings  and 
sketches— "notes  of  color,"  as  Sorolla  calls  them. 
To  deal  with  all,  in  our  limited  space,  would  be  an 
impossibility.  Let  us  speak,  then,  of  a  few  of  those 
open-air  pictures  into  which  the  painter's  sympathy 
enters,  that  sympathy  which  can  even  make  an  ugly 
subject  beautiful;  where,  with  a  swift  and  unerring 
hand  and  a  brush  full  of  brilliant  color,  he  sweeps  in 
the  actuality  of  life — almost  without  exception,  the 
joyousness  of  life — and  in  his  sweep  produces  mar- 
velous modeling. 

Sorolla  probably  learned  much  from  the  early  im- 
pressionists, but,  unlike  the  modern  school,  he  never 
betrays  his  technic ;  his  work  appears  spontaneous. 
We  spoke  of  his  unerring  hand.  It  is  said,  and  we 
have  the  authority  of  an  artist  who  has  painted  side 
by  side  with  him,  that  Sorolla  never  makes  a  correc- 

tion — to  use  that  artist's  own  expression,  "he  paints 
with  the  hand  of  God."  At  any  rate,  however  he 
paints,  he  gives  one  the  impression  of  dashing  in  with 
extraordinary  rapidity  what  he  was  actually  seeing, 
without  having  studied  the  scene,  and  to  all  that  he 
lends  remarkable  quality. 

Take,  for  instance,  "Alegria  del  Agua"  ("Water 
Joy" ) .  It  is  a  scene  on  the  beach  at  Valencia ;  naked 
boys  are  galloping  into  the  sea,  and  two  girls,  wearing 
light  bathing-suits,  are  trotting  toward  the  water;  in 
the  distance  are  fishing-boats  scudding  with  their 
sails  full.  Boys  and  girls  and  boats  are  full  of  ac- 
tion, and  the  drawing  of  the  figures  is  quite  extraor- 
dinary. In  another  picture,  "Corriendo  por  la  Playa" 
("Running  Along  the  Beach"),  the  movement  of  the 
two  girls  and  a  boy  is  even  still  more  remarkable. 
Note,  too,  how  the  hands,  which,  at  a  short  distance, 
appear  to  be  so  carefully  modeled,  are  dashed  in  with 
bright  orange  paint ;  note,  too,  with  what  a  few 
strokes  the  perfect  modeling  of  the  boy  who  is  in  the 
water  in  the  distance  is  done.  This  is  rather  an  ex- 
ception, for,  as  a  rule,  Sorolla  only  suggests  the  dis- 
tant figures.  The  grandeur  of  the  color  in  these  two 
cases,  as  in  the  rest  of  the  pictures  we  are  about  to 
describe,  must  be  taken  for  granted ;  it  would  be  an 
idle  repetition  to  mention  it. 

Original  sketch  for  Xo.  350 

241  A 

Mercado  de  Leon 


Playa  de  Valencia 


Playa  de  Valencia 


But  talking  of  modeling,  there  is  no  picture  in  the 
exhibition  where  one  can  study  better  how  Sorolla 
makes  a  perfect  drawing  by  means  of  a  strong  line 
than  in  the  one  that  shows  a  peasant  woman  bearing 
her  naked  grandchild,  and  there  is  no  doubt  she  is 
moving  to  the  sea.  The  baby's  beautiful  little  head 
leans  against  its  grandmother's  neck,  while  the  right 
arm  clings  to  the  old  woman's  left  fore-shoulder. 
The  grandmother  wears  a  dark  blue  blouse,  a  pale 
blue  dress,  and  a  mauve  apron.  The  extraordinary 
drawing  of  that  baby's  right  arm  is  done  by  two 
sharp  strokes  of  dark  blue  on  the  woman's  blouse, 
one  above  the  arm,  the  other  below.  The  modeling 
of  the  baby's  back,  too,  is  perfect.  There  is  not  an 
artificial  stroke  in  the  whole  painting.  It  is  pure 
color  throughout  and  all  the  modeling  is  made  by  the 
play  of  color. 

Study,  too,  the  modeling  of  the  baby  boy  in  "Al 
Bano"  ("At  the  Bath"),  who  toddles  hands  in  hands 
between  his  big  and  little  sister.  With  what  simple 
methods  are  the  muscles  worked  in;  notice  the  care- 
less stride  of  the  elder  girl;  the  tender  solicitude  of 
the  younger,  and  the  skill  displayed  in  the  drawing  of 
her  hand  and  that  of  the  baby  which  she  holds. 
Again  in  the  picture  numbered  303,  a  boy  and  girl  on 
their  way  to  the  water,  what  modeling  in  the  boy, 

what  a  play  of  sunshine  in  the  whole  picture.  But  as 
a  tour  de  force  in  the  play  of  sunlight  the  "Despues 
del  Baiio"  ("After  the  Bath")  is  startling  and  almost 
makes  one  doubt  Sorolla's  word  that  he  can  only  ap- 
proach the  truth  of  it.  It  represents  a  laughing  girl 
buttoning  the  shoulder  of  her  wet  bathing  dress.  A 
boy  holds  up  a  white  sheet  to  cover  her  with  through 
which  one  sees  the  color  of  his  naked  limbs.  If  that 
is  not  true  sunlight  which  falls  upon  the  sheet,  hits 
the  girl's  arm,  and  gives  a  dash  of  turquoise  blue  to 
one  of  her  feet,  it  is  a  very  close  imitation.  But  we 
could  go  on  for  pages  describing  the  beauty  of  these 
beach  scenes;  the  composition  of  "Morning  on  the 
Beach  at  Valencia,"  the  group  on  the  shore,  the  bath- 
ing boys,  and  the  boats  with  their  bellying  sails ;  the 
extraordinary  modeling  of  the  boy  crabbing,  of  the 
young  girl  in  "El  Bano,  Javea"  (98),  and  the  sparkle 
of  the  water  into  which  she  is  about  to  dive,  and  the 
color  of  "Salida  del  Baiio"  ("Coming  Out  of  the 

There  is  one  picture  that  strikes  a  deeper  note  than 
these — the  one  sad  picture  of  the  whole  exhibition. 
It  is  called  "Triste  Herencia"  ("The  Sad  Inheri- 
tance" ) ,  and  belongs  to  John  E.  Berwind.  It  hung  in 
the  Sunday-school  room  of  the  Church  of  the  As- 
cension, on  Fifth  Avenue;  yet  few  knew  that  New 

Playa  de  Valencia 


Playa  de  Valencia 





York  possessed  this  masterpiece.  The  "sad  inheri- 
tance" has  come  to  a  number  of  crippled  or  imbecile 
boys  who  are  being  watched  over  by  a  priest  as  they 
take  their  bath  on  the  beach  at  Valencia  that  has  lost 
all  the  gladsomeness  of  Sorolla's  other  beach  pieces. 
Here  again  the  artist  displays  his  marvelous  powers 
of  draftsmanship.  There  is  a  boy  in  the  right- 
hand  corner  of  the  picture  shading  his  eyes  from  the 
sun,  the  modeling  of  whose  figure,  simply  indicated 
by  the  shadow  on  his  stomach,  is  quite  extraordinary, 
and  that  of  other  boys  on  crutches  is  no  less  re- 

The  largest  canvas  in  the  exhibition,  "Oxen  Ready 
to  Beach  Fishing-Boats,"  is  so  full  of  brilliant  draw- 
ing and  painting  that  if  we  once  started  to  describe 
them  we  should  not  know  where  to  stop, — what  with 
the  modeling  of  the  great  bellying  sail,  of  the  oxen, 
and  especially  of  their  hind  quarters,  the  quality  of 
the  sea  and  the  action  of  the  figures;  and  the  same 
virtues  are  to  be  found  in  316,  one  of  the  many 
"Playa  de  Valencia" ;  and  in  the  "Return  from  Fish- 
ing" (102). 

When  we  come  to  Sorolla  as  a  portrait-painter, 
especially  when  he  is  painting  royalties  and  grandees, 
we  find  him  less  great.  The  sun-lighted  pieces  may 
have  bewildered  us.  He  appears  to  be  very  rarely  in 


sympathy  with  his  model.  And,  as  we  have  said  be- 
fore, he  dislikes  painting  indoors.  One  of  the  two 
portraits  of  the  King  of  Spain,  that  in  which  he 
wears  a  hussar  uniform,  is  an  outdoor  picture,  with 
the  sun  playing  on  his  Majesty's  features,  but  it  is 
no  longer  the  sun  that  shone  on  the  beach  at  Valencia. 
Another  outdoor  portrait,  that  of  Madrazo,  the 
painter,  is  more  satisfactory,  but  still  we  do  not  rec- 
ognize in  it  the  Sorolla  we  have  been  wandering  with 
along  "The  Playa."  We  find  him  again,  however,  in 
"Maria  at  La  Granja,"  dressed  in  white  and  delight- 
fully simple,  and,  if  it  is  not  exactly  the  real  Sorolla, 
we  detect  a  fine  portrait-painter  in  a  picture  of  Senora 
Sorolla  promenading  in  a  garden  where  some  mas- 
terly work  in  black  and  white  is  shown.  The  picture 
of  the  young  Queen  of  Spain  in  white  satin,  wearing 
an  ermine  cloak,  ropes  of  pearls,  a  small  crown,  and 
pearl  and  diamond  ornaments,  and  with  a  deep  crim- 
son background,  is  hard.  The  little  picture  of  the 
baby  Prince  of  the  Asturias  is  charming,  but  still  not 
Sorolla,  and  the  same  may  be  said  of  an  excellent 
likeness  of  the  Queen's  mother.  Princess  Henry  of 
Battenberg,  dressed  in  black  and  wearing  many 
diamonds.  But  we  come  across  the  great  master  of 
color  again  in  certain  landscapes  in  "The  Yellow 
Tree,  La  Granja,"  in  "The  Seven  Peaks,"  and  in  the 

C 178-3 






tones  of  yellow  in  the  "Walls  of  Segovia,"  and  in 
"The  Clamores." 

Before  closing  this  criticism,  it  is  only  fair  to  say 
that  there  was  exhibited  in  Paris  the  portrait  of  a 
mounted  general,  which  was  generally  conceded  to 
prove  Sorolla  a  worthy  successor  as  a  portrait-painter 
of  Velazquez  and  Goya. 

(From  the  New  York  Herald,  February  7,  1909.) 
AMERICAN  receptiveness  to  art  has  been  shown  in 
various  ways  this  season.  At  present,  with  the  second 
biennial  exhibition  in  the  Corcoran  Gallery  in  Wash- 
ington, recently  closed,  the  annual  exhibition  of  the 
Pennsylvania  Academy  of  Fine  Arts,  in  Philadelphia, 
in  progress,  and  the  National  Academy  of  Design, 
which  already  has  held  its  winter  exhibition,  prepar- 
ing-to  hold  its  regular  annual  show,  opportunity  also 
is  offered  to  view  two  exhibitions  of  foreign  art. 
These  are  the  contemporary  German  art  show  in  the 
Metropolitan  Museum  and  the  exhibition  of  work  by 
a  noted  Spanish  artist,  Mr.  Joaquin  Sorolla  y  Bastida, 
in  the  Hispano- American  Museum,  in  I56th  Street, 
west  of  Broadway. 

That  peace  hath  its  victories  no  less  than  war  is 
illustrated  in  the  fact  that  Spain  since  its  disastrous 


conflict  with  America  has  begun  a  new  conquest  in 
art.  The  influence  of  contemporary  Spanish  art  is 
making  itself  felt  more  strongly,  and  that  one  of  the 
leaders  in  this  art  should  be  invited  to  America  to 
exhibit  is  in  itself  significant. 

Under  the  title  "A  Great  Spanish  Artist"  Mr. 
Charles  M.  Kurtz  some  time  ago  contributed  to 
"Scribner's  Magazine"  what  still  remains  one  of  the 
most  comprehensive  articles  on  Mr.  Sorolla's  work 
written  by  an  American.  The  St.  Louis  Museum  of 
Fine  Arts  owns  this  Spanish  painter's  picture,  "An- 
other Marguerite,"  and  this,  as  well  as  many  other 
examples  of  Mr.  Sorolla's  work,  may  be  seen  repro- 
duced in  Mr.  Kurtz's  essay.  "Another  Marguerite" 
is  tragic  in  subject.  In  execution  it  emphasizes  the 
pathos  rather  than  the  dramatic  possibilities  of  the 
theme  and  is  sad  and  somber.  But  his  subjects  are 
most  varied  and  often  full  of  life  and  gaiety.  Some 
passages  in  Mr.  Kurtz's  article,  quoted  at  the  time, 
but  especially  significant  now,  are  for  this  reason 
worth  calling  attention  to  again. 

"No  other  living  painter,"  says  Mr.  Kurtz,  "sur- 
passes Sorolla  in  his  representations  of  light  and  at- 
mosphere. He  is  especially  fond  of  out-door  sub- 
jects— views  along  the  coast,  fisher  people,  boatmen, 
boats  with  sails  filled  by  the  breeze,  women  with 



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skirts  blown  by  the  wind,  naked  children  playing  in 
the  surf,  sturdy  oxen  with  ropes  attached  pulling  up 
boats  on  the  sands.  In  his  genre  pictures  he  studies 
mostly  the  common  people  and  paints  them  to  the 
life.  Indeed,  all  his  work  is  instinct  with  vitality.  He 
seems  to  imbibe  something  of  the  essence  of  whatever 
he  studies  and  to  involve  it  in  his  representations. 
No  other  painter  seems  to  cover  such  tremendous 
range  of  subjects  or  to  show  such  variety  in  his  tech- 

(The  Nation,  February  n,  1909.) 


PRECEDED  by  a  heightening  fame  in  Europe,  which 
was  accentuated  by  the  success  of  exhibits  of  his 
paintings  in  both  Paris  and  London,  the  Spanish 
artist,  Joaquin  Sorolla  y  Bastida,  is  now  to  be  seen  in 
New  York.  More  than  350  of  his  pictures  and 
sketches  are  on  view  at  the  Museum  of  the  Hispanic 
Society  of  America,  where  they  will  remain  till 
March  8th.  It  is  a  collection  extraordinary  for  range 
and  brilliancy.  To  have  produced  at  forty-six  so 
great  a  body  of  mature  work  indicates  uncommon 
fertility;  to  have  attained  such  striking  results  argues 

genius.  Sorolla's  method  is  that  of  a  modified  im- 
pressionism, but  such  a  seeing  eye  as  his  must  be, 
such  a  rapid  and  sure  technic,  would  have  made 
him  a  great  artist  under  almost  any  method.  His 
painting  seems  absolutely  direct.  Critics  are  putting 
microscopes  upon  Velazquez's  canvas,  to  see  if  they 
can  discover  anything  like  niggling  under  the  broad 
free  sweep  of  his' brush,  but  it  would  occur  to  no  one 
to  apply  such  a  test  to  Sorolla.  His  stroke  is  obviously 
as  unwavering  as  that  of  a  piston,  the  pure  color 
being  laid  on  in  one  jet.  There  is  no  fussing;  all  is 
immediate,  the  drawing,  the  modeling,  being  got  by 
the  swift  use  of  the  final  color.  He  is  called  a 
triumph  of  the  "new"  school,  but  such  great  gifts  as 
his  would  have  glorified  any  school. 

If  definitions  must  be  sought,  Sorolla  is  not  so 
much  an  artist  of  the  plcin  air  as  of  the  full  sun.  His 
greatest  mastery  lies  in  rendering  the  highest  notes 
of  the  Spanish  sun.  Especially  powerful  are  his 
paintings  of  sea  and  sand  in  the  brightest  light,  with 
fishing  boats,  and  oxen  to  draw  them  up,  and  bathers 
and  children  playing  on  the  beach  or  splashing  in  the 
water  or  racing  into  the  wave  or  emerging  from  the 
bath — all  under  the  sun  of  Valencia  or  San  Sebastian 
or  Biarritz.  Many  of  the  paintings  dealing  with 
these  favorite  subjects  of  Sorolla  are  positive  tours 


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de  force,  which  simply  leave  the  gazer  astounded  at 
the  artist's  extraordinary  talent.  It  seems  as  if  he 
had  discovered  a  new  way  of  fixing  instantaneously 
in  paint  not  only  form  and  color,  but  motion.  In 
such  a  picture  as  "Alegria  del  Mar,"  the  happy  dash 
of  the  naked  boys  into  the  surf  is  life  caught  in  the 
act,  while  the  turned  face  of  the  youngster  deepest  in, 
with  the  one  line  of  white  to  show  where  his  teeth 
gleam  in  joy,  is  the  keynote  to  the  whole.  In  land- 
scapes away  from  the  sea,  or  under  more  somber 
skies,  Sorolla  is  not  always  so  victorious;  but  flood 
him  with  sunlight,  and  he  will  flood  you.  Even  in  his 
portraits,  he  seems  to  desire  to  get  his  sitter  out  into 
the  sun.  One  of  his  best  is  that  of  a  gentleman  sit- 
ting in  strong  light  among  bright  flowers  in  his 
garden.  The  full  length  of  the  King  of  Spain,  clad 
in  brilliant  uniform,  is  done  out  under  the  open  sky, 
with  an  effect,  as  one  bystander  remarked,  as  if  the 
King  had  swallowed  sunshine  and  it  was  oozing  from 
him  at  every  pore.  A  much  more  powerful  rendering 
of  Alfonso's  face  is  the  darker  one  painted  indoors, 
which  for  its  unshrinking  revelation  of  melancholy 
struggling  through  the  mask  of  youth,  and  its  air  of 
a  fatal  heredity  adding  gloom  to  every  feature,  might 
well  have  been  given  the  name  which  Sorolla  has 
applied  to  his  large  picture  of  crippled  children  on 


the  seashore,  "Triste  Herencia."  The  portrait  of  Me- 
nendez  y  Pelayo,  done  last  year,  is  equally  masterful. 
The  entire  exhibit  is  a  noteworthy  event  in  this  art 
season.  Sorolla  is  certain  to  provoke  wide  discussion, 
in  which  admiration  will  be  a  common  ground  of  all 
disputants,  whatever  their  differences.  It  is  said  that 
his  pictures  may  be  shown  in  Boston,  and  possibly  in 
other  cities.  If  so,  one  can  predict  a  new  Spanish 
conquest  of  America. 

(The  New  York  World,  February  13,  1909.) 



JOAQUIN  SOROLLA  Y  BASTIDA,  a  sun-worshiping  im- 
pressionist painter  from  the  country  of  Velazquez, 
Spagnoletto,  Murillo,  and  Goya,  came  to  New  York 
in  foggy  February  with  some  300  of  his  pictures. 
The  expected — nay,  the  inevitable — has  happened. 
In  little  more  than  a  fortnight's  time,  what  might 
have  been  in  some  circumstances  a  mere  ripple  of 

C 196] 

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artistic  interest  has  risen  to  a  tidal  wave  of  en- 
thusiasm. And  the  effect  bears  true  and  just  relation 
to  the  cause — for  this  is  undoubtedly  the  most  bril- 
liant and  stunning  "one-man  show"  to  which  art- 
loving  Manhattan  has  ever  yet  been  treated. 

Every  day,  Sundays  and  holidays  included,  rain  or 
shine,  morning  and  evening  alike,  the  general  public 
go,  literally  by  thousands,  to  the  new  museum  build- 
ing of  the  Hispanic  Society,  which  stands  like  a 
temple  on  a  noble  eminence  overlooking  the  Hudson 
at  One  Hundred  and  Fifty-sixth  Street— surely  the 
"farthest  north"  for  picture  exhibitions. 

It  is  safe  to  say  that  more  than  wonted  satisfaction 
over  the  city's  acquisition  of  art  treasures  will  be  felt 
in  the  announcement  that  a  number  of  the  most  im- 
portant of  Sorolla's  canvases  are  to  remain  here  per- 
manently. These  include  the  grand,  Homeric 
"Beaching  the  Boats" — with  the  loose  sails  bellying 
in  the  sun  and  breeze,  and  big  brown  oxen  at  their 
toil  amidst  the  swirling  breakers  of  the  joyous  blue 
sea — and  the  striking  group  of  Leonese  peasants, 
with  their  gaily-caparisoned  donkey;  which  two  rep- 
resentative works,  it  is  rumored,  are  destined  for  the 
Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art.  The  Hispanic  Society 
also  has  acquired  a  number  of  the  portraits  and  his- 
toric landscape  scenes. 

As  for  the  "Triste  Herencia"  ("Sad  Inheritance"), 
the  most  thoughtful  and  outwardly  somber  of  all 
Sorolla's  pictures,  showing  a  score  or  so  of  naked, 
weak,  and  crippled  boys,  some  of  them  on  crutches, 
the  inmates  of  an  asylum  for  the  cast-off  children  of 
depraved  or  delinquent  parents,  enjoying  their  pa- 
thetic imitation  of  a  happy  moment  in  a  summer  sea 
bath,  under  the  Christlike  charge  of  a  stalwart 
priest,  robed  in  black— this  eloquent  sermon  in  paint 
already  belongs  in  New  York.  It  is  owned  by  Mr. 
John  E.  Berwind,  and,  when  not  on  public  view, 
hangs  in  the  Sunday-school  room  of  the  Church  of 
the  Ascension,  Fifth  Avenue  and  Tenth  Street. 

The  present  Sorolla  exhibition  in  its  entirety— 
which  the  artist  himself  says  is  the  largest  and  best 
showing  of  his  work  ever  brought  together— is  to  re- 
main in  New  York  only  until  March  8th,  when  it 
will  be  followed  by  a  similar  exhibition  of  the  paint- 
ings of  another  great  contemporaneous  Spaniard, 
Ignacio  Zuloaga. 

Entering  the  hall  of  the  Hispanic  Society,  you  in- 
stinctively shade  your  eyes— for  you  seem  suddenly 
to  be  standing  in  the  full  blaze  of  a  meridional  sun- 
light. Right  in  front  of  you  stands  his  young 
majesty,  Alfonso  XIII,  King  of  Spain,  in  a  gorgeous 
hussar  uniform  that  almost  requires  to  be  looked  at 
through  smoked  goggles. 

Above  and  all  around  stretches  a  marvelously  ani- 
mated panorama  of  his  kingdom — the  Spain  of  to- 
day— interspersed  with  occasional  glimpses  of  the 
romance-land  we  read  of  in  Cervantes,  Balzac,  Victor 
Hugo,  and  Prosper  Merimee.  Here  are  portraits  of 
royal  and  noble  personages,  hidalgos,  caballeros, 
grandees,  peasants,  gipsies,  soldiers,  sailors,  fisher- 
men, statesmen,  writers,  artists,  scientists,  queens  and 
Carmens,  mothers  and  children— the  latter  mostly 
naked  and  sun-browned,  running  along  the  sea-beach 
of  Valencia,  or  disporting  themselves  in  clear  green 
waters  through  which  their  bodies  glimmer,  a  revela- 
tion of  superb  draftsmanship  and  magical,  swift 
brushing  in  of  color — white  sails  flashing  on  a  purple 
sea,  Moorish  bridges  over  the  storied  Tagus,  flowers 
and  oranges  and  pomegranates  gleaming  amidst  dark- 
green  masses  of  foliage,  love's  young  dream  in  pagan 
sunlight  and  on  golden  sands,  the  tender  anxious  joys 
of  motherhood  and  babyhood,  proud  old  beggar- 
ruffians  in  ragged  cloaks  drinking  red  wine,  boat- 
builders,  net-menders,  and  sail-makers  on  the  quays 
or  along  shore,  girls  sorting  raisins,  and  the  scenes 
and  occupations  of  orchard  and  grange,  contrasted 
with  the  languorous  luxury  of  aristocratic  interiors. 
All  these  presentments  and  many  more  seem  to  have 
sprung  spontaneously  from  Sorolla's  eager  brain  and 
responsive  master  hand. 


Here,  in  fact,  is  Sorolla's  autobiography,  vividly 
inscribed  in  paint.  Nine  tenths  of  the  scenes  are  his 
native  Valencia  or  the  shores  of  Biarritz  and  San 
Sebastian.  The  charming  children  are  his  own,  and 
the  beautiful  senora  whom  he  depicts  so  often  and 
so  sympathetically  is  their  mother,  Dona  Clotilde 
Garcia,  the  artist's  beloved  wife.  From  the  intimate 
quality  of  many  of  the  portraits  of  high  personages 
one  might  guess  what  is  indeed  the  fact,  that  the 
friendship  of  rank  and  nobility  is  Sorolla's  at  his 
command,  while  he  is  still  in  early  middle  life  (he 
was  born  in  1863)  and  in  the  zenith  of  his  powers. 

No  more  rapid,  sure  and  vivid  painter  ever  made  a 
dash  at  the  problems  of  light  and  motion  and  got 
away  with  them  with  such  eclat.  Sorolla  is  always 
trying,  for  the  sake  of  truth  and  unity  of  impression, 
to  paint  a  complete  picture  at  a  single  sitting — and 
more  often  than  not  he  has  succeeded  in  this  consum- 
mate tour  de  force.  Ever  since  as  a  boyish  student 
he  painted  his  first  academic  picture  in  the  open  bull 
ring  of  Valencia  he  has  been  possessed  by  the  passion 
for  light  and  laughter  and  color. 

Coming  in,  tired,  the  other  evening — for  even 
now,  here  in  New  York,  Sorolla  counts  that  clay  lost 
in  which  he  does  not  achieve  six  or  eight  hours'  work 
on  a  portrait  or  something— the  impressionable 
Spaniard  fairly  embraced  an  otherwise  severe  and 




Puerto  de  Javea 

professional  gentleman  because  he  chanced  to  have 
on  a  bright  red  necktie ! 

It  was  a  propitious  moment  for  cigarettes  and  con- 

"Have  you  considered,"  said  Senor  Sorolla  to  "The 
World"  representative,  "why  you  have  such  artists  as 
Sargent,  Chase,  and  the  late  Whistler  ?  It  is  because 
the  real  founder  of  American  art  was  that  supreme 
impressionist  master,  Velazquez.  The  men  I  have 
named,  like  Constable  and  Turner  and  Courbet  before 
them,  seize  greatness  by  that  same  ecstatic  swiftness 
of  execution  which  was  the  secret  of  Velazquez's 
splendid  triumphs  of  realism.  As  for  myself,  I  can 
assure  you  this  lyrical  impetuosity  came  to  me  as 
naturally  as  breathing  or  the  beatings  of  my  heart,  at 
the  earliest  dawn  of  my  sympathy  with  nature. 

"All  inspired  painters  are  impressionists,  even 
though  it  be  true  that  some  impressionists  are  not 

"If  ever  painter  wrought  a  miracle  of  illusion  with 
brush  and  pigment  that  painter  was  Velazquez  in  his 
'Las  Meninas,'  at  the  Prado  in  Madrid.  Now,  I 
have  studied  this  picture  with  a  lens,  and  what  do  I 
find?  Why,  that  Velazquez  got  that  marvelous  at- 
mospheric background  by  one  broad  sweep  of  his 
flowing  brush,  charged  with  thin  color— so  thin  that 
you  can  feel  the  very  texture  of  the  canvas  through  it. 

"Nature,  the  sun  itself,  produces  color  effects  on 
this  same  principle,  but  instantaneously.  The  im- 
pression of  these  evanescent  visions  is  what  we  make 
desperate  attempts  to  catch  and  fix  by  any  means  at 
hand.  At  such  moments  I  am  unconscious  of  mate- 
rials, of  style,  of  rules,  of  everything  that  intervenes 
between  my  perception  and  the  object  or  idea  per- 

"No,  mes  amis,  impressionism  is  not  charlatanry, 
nor  a  formula,  nor  a  school.  I  should  say  rather  it 
is  the  bold  resolve  to  throw  all  those  things  over- 

By  an  extraordinary  coincidence,  which  may  be- 
come historic,  Sargent's  wondrous  water-colors,  no 
less  than  eighty-six  of  them,  have  been  shown  at 
Knoedler's,  simultaneously  with  the  Sorolla  exhibi- 
tion—and they  absolutely  confirm  the  Spaniard's 

Only  after  contemplating  and  comparing  these  two 
epoch-making  modern  masters,  if  you  should  happen 
to  look  in  upon  a  bunch  of  Barbizons  at  Schaus's,  or 
even  upon  the  French  impressionists  at  Durand- 
Ruel's,  you  will  be  astonished  to  find  how  black,  how 
positively  medieval,  the  latter  appear  for  the  moment 
to  your  sun-dazzled  eyes. 


La  Concha,  San  Sebastian 

San  Sebastiar 


San  Sebastian 


(The  American  Art  News,  February  13,  1909.) 


To  this  dull  art  season  has  suddenly  come  a  sensation 
in  the  exhibition  opened  this  week  at  the  Hispanic 
Museum  of  the  works  of  the  modern  Spanish  master, 
Joaquin  Sorolla  y  Bastida.  While  some  few  Ameri- 
can art  lovers  and  students  of  contemporary  art 
movements  in  Europe  have  known  of  the  amazing 
power,  color  quality,  and  dramatic  strength  of  So- 
rolla's  canvases,  few  even  of  these  have  seen  more 
than  some  scattered  examples  of  his  work,  while  the 
American  art  public  was  not  prepared  for  what  is  a 
virtual  revelation— in  this  display. 

There  is  every  evidence  that  the  New  York  public, 
never  indifferent  to  really  great  music,  art,  or  litera- 
ture, will  respond  enthusiastically  to  the  Hispanic 
Society's  splendid  enterprise  in  presenting  to  it  the 
work  of  so  great  a  modern  master. 

It  is  only  to  be  regretted  that  after  its  close  here 
the  exhibition  cannot  be  repeated  in  the  larger  cities 
of  the  country. 

(The  American  Art  News,  February  13,  1909.; 


To  the  credit  of  busy  New  York  it  must  be  said 
that  its  more  cultivated  element  has  quickly  appre- 
ciated the  beauty  and  value  of  the  most  remarkable 
and  fascinating  "one-man"  exhibition  of  pictures 
ever  made  in  this  country,  and  has  already  begun  to 
crowd  during  the  daylight  and  even  evening  hours, 
the  handsome  and  artistic  museum  of  the  Hispanic 
Society  of  America  in  i56th  Street.  This,  with  a 
prodigality  of  expense  and  great  care  and  taste, 
has  been  so  arranged  in  its  interior— for  it  is 
really  a  library  more  than  an  art  gallery— so  as  to 
display  the  works  of  the  Spanish  painter  to  the  best 
advantage,  with  harmonious  coloring  of  walls,  and 
admirable  arrangement  of  lights,  both  at  day  and 
evening.  The  exhibition,  which  opened  on  Monday 
last  to  the  public,  and  which,  after  its  close  here  on 
March  8th,  will  go  to  the  Albright  Art  Gallery  at 
Buffalo,  to  be  succeeded  by  an  exhibition  of  twenty- 
two  selected  canvases  by  another  great  contemporary 
Spanish  painter,  Ignacio  Zuloaga— called  the  Spanish 
Manet — and  which  is  now  on  at  Buffalo,  is  composed 
of  350  numbers,  of  which  over  a  hundred  are  small 


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sketches,  but  each  and  every  one  so  characteristic,  so 
beautiful  in  color,  so  virile  and  full  of  sunlight  and 
air,  as  to  call  for  the  closest  study. 


IT  is  difficult  to  restrain  a  possible  exuberance  of  ex- 
pression, or  to  qualify  one's  admiration  in  attempting 
to  describe  the  art  of  Sorolla.  There  are  those  who 
do  not  hesitate  to  place  him  very  close  to  his  early 
predecessor,  the  great  master  Velazquez,  and  who 
say  that,  except  in  portraiture,  he  excels  his  other 
great  predecessor,  Goya,  but  no  artist  or  art  lover, 
be  he  tonalist,  impressionist,  realist,  or  romanticist, 
can  fail  to  be  at  least  amazed  by  the  marvelous  vi- 
tality and  simplicity  of  the  art  of  Sorolla.  He  is 
essentially,  to  give  him  his  definite  place,  a  colorist, 
and  he  is  also  a  great  draftsman,  and  the  most 
successful  painter  of  sunlight,  atmosphere,  and  air 
that  possibly  the  world  has  ever  seen.  And  his  work 
is  truthful— truthful  in  drawing,  in  action,  and  in 
every  detail.  Notice  the  baby  boy  in  "At  the  Bath," 
"Running  Along  the  Beach,"  with  the  movement  and 
action  of  the  children  and  its  light  and  air,  and  the 
"After  the  Bath,"  with  the  sunlight  filtering  through 
the  white  sheet  which  the  boy  is  holding  up  over  the 
laughing  girl  in  her  wet  bathing  dress.  Notice  the 

muscles  of  the  straining  oxen  in  the  great  museum 
picture,  which  should  without  question  find  a  resting 
place  in  our  own  Metropolitan — the  color  of  the  sea 
and  the  movement  of  the  figures.  And  through  it  all 
one  feels  the  breeze  blow,  and  is  gripped  by  the  dra- 
matic intensity  of  the  scene. 

A  brother  painter  of  Sorolla  says  that  he  never 
makes  a  correction  in  his  drawing,  and  that  "he 
paints  with  the  hand  of  God."  Certainly  his  is  in- 
spired art,  in  that  it  meets  the  test  of  all  inspired  art 
— the  power  to  move,  to  thrill,  to  hold,  the  spectator. 


WHILE  as  a  rule  Sorolla  paints  the  joyousness  of 
life,  the  summer  and  the  sun,  he  can  be  sad  and 
tragic,  too,  and  in  this  very  versatility  he  evinces  his 
deep  sympathy  with  humanity  in  its  sufferings,  as 
well  as  in  its  joys.  One  of  the  most  moving  pictures 
in  the  world — certainly  one  of  the  most  impressive 
of  modern  masterpieces  of  art— is  "The  Sad  Inheri- 
tance," that  canvas  fortunately  owned  by  the  Church 
of  the  Ascension  in  this  city,  which  depicts  a  group  of 
naked  laughing  urchins  sporting  in  the  surf  on  the 
Valencia  beach,  while  in  the  foreground  four  little 
cripples,  also  nude  and  desirous  of  a  bath,  are  pre- 



San  Sebastiar 

Playa  cle  Valenci 

vented  by  their  infirmities  from  joining  their  fellows. 
One  poor  boy,  supported  by  crutches,  bows  his  head 
and  weeps,  while  a  kindly  young  priest  in  attendance 
lays  his  hand  sadly  and  in  sorrowing  sympathy  on 
his  head. 


IT  is  as  a  portrait-painter  that  Sorolla  appears  to  less 
advantage.  He  could  not  paint  a  bad  portrait,  for 
he  draws  too  well  and  correctly,  and  his  color  is  too 
good  to  allow  even  this  artistic  Homer  to  nod  to  any 
extent,  but  with  the  exception  of  his  sketch  of  the 
young  King  of  Spain  (the  half-length,  not  the  full- 
length,  which  is  not  so  good),  and  the  life-size,  full- 
length  seated  portrait  of  his  fellow-painter,  Madrazo, 
his  portraits  are  not  convincing,  while  that  of  the 
young  Queen  of  Spain,  in  white  satin  with  an  ermine 
cloak,  is  distinctly  hard.  But  the  portraits  need  not 
detain  one— there  is  too  much  to  see  and  admire  in 
the  painter's  other  works. 


A  WORD  in  closing  as  to  the  life  history  of  the  modest 
little  middle-aged  man,  born  in  Valencia,  Spain,  only 
forty-seven  years  ago,  and  who,  now  here,  bids  fair 

to  become  a  lion  against  his  will.  He  was  left  an 
orphan  when  only  two  years  old,  adopted  by  an  aunt, 
the  wife  of  a  locksmith,  and  spent  his  time  making 
drawings  in  copy  books.  Although  he  was  taken 
away  from  school  and  placed  by  his  uncle  in  the 
latter's  workshop,  he  was  permitted  to  attend  draw- 
ing classes,  and  when  fifteen  to  study  art.  He  en- 
tered the  academy  at  Valencia,  and  at  once  won  the 
prize  for  color,  drawing,  and  perspective.  A  Senor 
Garcia  became  interested  in  the  boy  and  paid  his  way 
for  several  years  in  the  academy.  The  painter  after- 
ward married  his  patron's  daughter.  His  pictures 
attracted  no  attention  when  first  exhibited,  but  the 
"Second  of  May,"  a  scene  of  the  Spanish  War  of 
Independence,  and  painted  in  the  open  air,  when 
shown  at  Madrid,  brought  him  fame.  Then  he  went 
to  Rome  on  a  scholarship  and  afterward  to  Paris. 
When  his  "Fishing  Boats  Returning"  was  purchased 
for  the  Luxembourg  from  the  Salon,  he  first  reached 
universal  fame.  Since  then  he  has  gone  on  conquer- 
ing and  to  conquer. 

The  exhibition  is  not  only,  as  said  above,  a  revela- 
tion, but  is  the  most  important  and  interesting  event 
of  the  present  art  season. 


San  Sebastian 


San  Sebastian 


Playa  de  Valencia 


Playa  de  Valencia 


(From  an  article  in  the  New-Yorker  Staats-Zeitung,  February 

14,  1909,  entitled  "Die  hispanische  Gesellschaft  von 

Amerika.    Von  A.  von  Ende.") 

...  So  war  mir  das  Ziel  dieses  Unternehmens 
klar  geworden  und  ich  war  kaum  davon  iiberrascht, 
dass  die  Gesellschaft  in  ihren  Bemiihungen  das  Ver- 
standnis  hispanischer  Kultur  zu  f  ordern,  es  auch  unter- 
nommen.  uns  mit  der  modernen  spanischen  Kunst 
bekannt  zu  rnachen.  Es  war  eine  gliickliche  Idee,  die 
Herrn  Huntington  veranlasste,  zur  Einfuhrung  in 
dieselbe  Joaquin  Sorolla  y  Bastida  zu  wahlen,  dessen 
Kunst  weniger  die  dem  Auslander  sattsam  bekann- 
ten  und  ihm  gewaltsam  erscheinenden  Ausserungen 
des  Nationaltemperaments,  als  das  ruhig  dahinglei- 
tende  Alltagsleben  des  Durchschnittsvolkes  darstellt. 
Keine  Stierkampfe,  keinen  Torreador,  keine  Carmen 
sieht  man  auf  den  Bildern,  die  wahrend  des  am  8. 
Marz  ablaufenden  Monats  an  Stelle  der  oben  er- 
wahnten  Gemalde  getreten  sind.  Hat  die  Zeit  jene 
nachgedunkelt  und  sie  zu  typischen  Dokumenten  der 
Vergangenheit  gemacht,  so  geniigt  jetzt  ein  einziger 
Blick  in  den  Ausstellungssaal,  einem  den  Eindruck 
neuen,  bliihenden,  sonnigen,  farbenfrischen  Gegen- 
wartlebens  zu  ubermitteln.  Der  kiinstlerische  Werth 
der  Ausstellung  ist  ein  ungleicher.  Es  ist  zu  viel  da, 

und  mancherlei  Unfertiges,  das  in  des  Kiinstlers  Ate- 
lier hatte  bleiben  konnen.  Aber  der  lichte,  sonnige 
Charakter,  die  naive  Freude  am  rein  Thatsachlichen 
und  Greifbaren,  die  diesen  Bildern  eigen,  beriihrt 
einen  wie  frischer  Seewind  oder  wie  scharfe  Hohen- 
luft.  Man  ist  versucht,  hinter  dieser  Kunst  eine  bei- 
nahe  robuste  Gesundheit  und  ein  sanguinisches  Tem- 
perament zu  vermuthen,  der  die  Erscheinung  und 
Personlichkeit  des  mit  seiner  Gattin  nach  New  York 
gekommenen  Kiinstlers  kaum  entspricht,  wohl  aber 
besteht  eine  innige  Beziehung  zwischen  des  Kiinstlers 
schlichter,  ruhiger  Sprechweise  und  der  einfachen, 
man  mochte  beinahe  sagen,  sachlichen  Sprache,  die 
sein  Pinsel  fiihrt. 

Es  ist  in  dieser  Anhaufung  von  Bildern  eine  iiber- 
raschende  Mannigfaltigkeit  an  Motiven  aus  dem 
Leben  der  Durchschnittsmenschheit.  Seilbinder, 
Heuernte  in  Asturien,  Traubenbriihen,  Einziehen  der 
Segel,  Riickkehr  vom  Fischfang,  Krabbenfischer, 
Segelflicken,  Rosinenpacken,  Trocknen  der  Netze, 
Schwimmer,  Badende  und  zwischen  durch  und  iiber- 
all  Kinder,  spielende,  badende,  feierlich  bekleidete 
und  paradiesisch  nackte  Kinder.  Stellte  man  alle 
diese  Kinderbilder  zusammen,  so  ergabe  sich  ein  far- 
bengliihender,  sonnenlichter,  sinnesfreudiger  Hymnus 
auf  die  Fruchtbarkeit,  vor  einer  beinahe  primitiven 

Frische  und  Urspriinglichkeit.  Einige  dieser  Kinder- 
gestalten  sind  kostlich  in  Zeichnung  wie  Farbe.  Mit 
Ausnahme  der  Portraits  ist  nirgends  auch  nur  der 
geringste  Versuch  gemacht,  der  Natur  durch  Kompo- 
sition  nachzuhelfen.  Es  sind  beinahe  wortliche  Uber- 
tragungen  der  Wirklichkeit  und  es  ist  eine  heitere, 
lebensfrohe  Wirklichkeit.  Nur  einmal  beriihrt  der 
Kunstler  die  Tragik  des  Menschenlebens,  von  der  die 
Kindheit  nicht  verschont  ist,  in  dem  grossen  Ge- 
malde,  das  in  dem  kleineren  Nebenraum  hangt  und 
"Ein  trauriges  Erbe"  genannt  ist.  Da  stehen  an  dem 
Strande  von  Valencia,  dessen  Wasser  in  den  iibrigen 
Bildern  so  sonnig  durchleuchtet  sind,  hier  aber  eine 
beinahe  bleierne  diistere  Farbung  haben,  die  freud- 
losen,  verkriippelten  und  verwaisten  Kinder  eines 
Asyls  unter  Aufsicht  des  schiitzenden  Priesters  ein 
Bild  trostlosen,  erschiitternden  Elends.  Sonst  sieht 
der  Kunstler  nur  mit  dem  Auge  des  Malers,  der  die 
sich  ihm  darbietende  Natur,  die  Wirklichkeit  wieder- 
giebt;  hier  aber  hat  das  Herz  des  Menschenfreundes 

Sorolla  erinnert  einen  an  das  Wort  des  franzosi- 
schen  Kritikers,  der  von  Velazquez  gesagt :  "Le 
peintre,  le  plus  peintre  qui  fut  jamais."  und  man 
mochte  hinzufiigen  "et  rien  que  peintre."  Denn  er 
ist  Maler  und  nichts  als  Maler ;  weder  Denker  noch 
Dichter,  weder  Prediger  noch  Fantast:  weder  Ro- 

mantiker  noch  Problematiker.  Er  griibelt  nicht,  er 
schaut  und  malt.  Er  berechnet  vielleicht  nicht  ein- 
mal  seine  Wirkungen,  so  unbekiimmert,  so  keck, 
scheint  alles  au-f  die  Leinwand  hingeworfen.  Seine 
Farbenskala  ist  auf  wenige  Tone  beschrankt;  Xuan- 
cen  kennt  er  nicht.  Er  hat  keine  komplizirte  moderne 
Psyche.  Oder  aber  er  will  nur  das  Einfache  in 
Lebensausserungen  und  menschlichen  Empfindungen 
sehen  und  alles  Sensitive  und  Raffinirte  vermeiden. 
Es  ist  als  ob  dieser  Moderne  gegen  Vieles  protestirte, 
was  man  modern  nennt,  und  was  in  der  That  eine 
durchaus  naturliche  kiinstlerische  Ausserung  in  der 
gegenwartigen  Generation  schlummernder  Gedanken 
und  sich  durch  ganze  Schichten  der  Menschheit  hin- 
ziehender  Gefiihlsstromungen  ist.  Es  liegt  wie  Be- 
jahung  des  materiellen,  gesund  sinnlichen  Lebens  in 
alien  diesen  Strandbildern  mit  spielenden  Kindern, 
mit  lustwandelnden  Madchen  und  Jiinglingen,  mit 
Badenden  und  Schwimmern.  Es  liegt  sogar  viel- 
leicht ein  philosophisches  Sichfugen  in  das  Unaban- 
derliche  in  den  Volksszenen,  den  Interieurs,  wo  die 
Frauen  iiber  die  Arbeit  gebeugt  dasitzen  und  in  jenen 
Kustenbildern,  wo  Mensch  und  Vieh  mit  Anstren- 
gung  aller  ihrer  Kraft  sich  der  Brandling  entgegen- 
stemmen.  Auch  in  den  Landschaften,  die  in  der 
Sammlung  an  Zahl  schwach  vertreten  sind,  spiirt 
man  nichts  davon,  dass  der  Kiinstler  sich  etwa  be- 

Xifio  desnudo,  Granja 


Senora  de  Sorolla  (negro) 

miiht  habe,  diese  oder  jene  Stimmung  hervorzu- 
bringen.  Und  doch  liegt  in  manchen  derselben 
Stimmung,  und  hatte  durch  feinere  Nuancirung  wir- 
kungsvoll  hervorgehoben  warden  und  auf  den 
Beschauer  riickwirken  konnen.  Einzelne  Portraits 
zeugen  von  Scharfblick  fur  das  Wesentliche  und 
Charakteristische.  Das  lebensgrosse  Bild  der  Dame 
in  Schwarz  ist  ein  Beispiel ;  das  Portrait  der  Infanta 
Isabel  ein  noch  bedeutenderes.  Hingegen  kommen 
die  Majestaten  bei  Signer  Sorolla  wie  so  haufig  in 
den  Portraits  selbst  der  grossten  Meister  weniger 
gut  davon.  Man  kann  sich  nichts  Nichtssagenderes 
vorstellen  als  die  Bilder  der  beiden  koniglichen 

Die  Ausstellung,  die  zur  Zeit  eine  Menge  von  Be- 
suchern  nach  dem  Gebaude  zieht,  von  dessen  Existenz 
sie  vielleicht  keine  Ahnung  gehabt  haben,  hinterlasst 
einen  lichten,  frischen  Eindruck.  Sie  ist  geeignet, 
einem  anschaulich  zu  machen,  dass  Spanien  nicht  das 
Land  mondsuchtiger  Romantik  und  auch  nicht  das 
Land  blutiger  Volksbelustigungen  ist,  wie  man  es 
sich  gern  vorstellt.  Die  grosse  Masse  des  Volkes  ist 
iiberall  gesund  und  bleibt  sich  uberall  gleich.  In 
gewisser  Beziehung  ist  dies  eine  trostliche  Erkennt- 

(The  Newark  Evening  News,  February  20,  1909.) 


IT  grieves  The  Optimist  to  report  that  he  has  found 
nothing  in  the  galleries  to  compare  with  Sorolla's 
work,  but  he  is  comforted  by  his  optimism.  It  will 
not  always  be  so.  That  great  gladness  of  color  that 
is  Sorolla's!  it  is  wonderful.  He  is  one  of  the  few 
great  living  painters,  and,  happily,  the  exhibition  of 
his  paintings  at  the  Hispanic  Museum,  I56th  street, 
near  the  Subway  station,  will  be  continued  until 
March  8th. 

The  Optimist  would  like  to  linger  long  enough  to 
outline  Sorolla's  artistic  pedigree,  but  that  is  impossi- 
ble to-day.  Biographical  details  will  be  found  in  the 
introduction  to  the  catalogue.  Bastien-Lepage  and 
Menzel  affected  Sorolla  profoundly,  but  he  also  went 
to  Barbizon.  He  sprang  from  the  loins  of  Velazquez 
and  Goya.  Strongly  influenced  by  many  individuals, 
he  has  an  individuality  of  his  own ;  an  eclectic,  choos- 
ing method  and  technic  where  he  will,  he  makes  his 
own  school.  But  let  us  not  labor  over  the  causes  that 
made  him  great;  let  us  enjoy  what  we  are  privileged 
to  enjoy. 

Sorolla  is  a  painter  of  the  world  that  he  sees :  a 

Excelentisimo  Seiior  Duque  de  Alba 

great  impressionist,  a  true  realist.  And  he  has  a 
happy  habit  of  looking  at  the  world  in  which  the  sun 
shines.  It  is  possible  to  stretch  this  claim  so  as  to 
cover  "The  Sad  Inheritance."  In  the  foreground  is 
the  beach  at  Valencia.  For  the  moment  the  happy  chil- 
dren, fisherfolks  and  sail-sewers  have  been  banished. 
A  score  or  so  of  imbecile  or  crippled  boys— the  ana- 
tomical deformities  are  superbly  mastered— the 
cast-off  children  of  depraved  and  unknown  parents, 
huddle  about  the  good  priest  whose  life  is  consecrated 
to  the  alleviation  of  the  sufferings  caused  by  the  sins 
of  the  parents.  For  the  joyless  child,  denied  the 
gaiety  of  healthy  boyhood,  there  is  some  one  that 
cares,  and  Sorolla  could  not  paint  the  sorrow  of  it 
without  putting  the  solace  into  the  very  center. 

But  that  is  not  the  sunshine  that  characterizes  his 
work.  It  is  the  light  that  rays  from  Old  Sol  himself. 
"In  order  to  express  the  subtle  yet  intense  vibrations 
of  the  sunlight,"  Bereute  says,  "Sorolla  sometimes 
uses  crisp,  small  touches  of  the  brush,  though  not  in 
the  extravagant  fashion  of  the  French  impressionists. 
He  saw  and  absorbed  all  that  is  healthy  in  the  various 
phases  of  impressionism;  and  so,  in  painting  land- 
scape, he  banishes  from  his  palette  black  or  blackish, 
non-transparent  colors,  such  as  were  formerly  in 
vogue  for  rendering  shadow.  But,  on  the  other  hand, 

[255  ] 

his  canvases  contain  a  great  variety  of  blues  and  vio- 
lets balanced  and  juxtaposed  with  reds  and  yellows. 
These,  and  the  skilful  use  of  white,  provide  him  with 
a  color  scheme  of  great  simplicity,  originality,  and 

The  color— the  translucent  color— of  Sorolla  is 
tremendous,  but  what  a  shame  it  is  that  no  gallery  is 
at  hand  that  provides  proper  distance.  Take  No.  72, 
"Helen  Among  the  Roses,"  for  an  illustration.  It 
makes  no  appeal  whatever  until  it  is  glimpsed  from 
the  upper  gallery— this  is  the  best  place  from  which 
to  view  them  all— and  then  it  is  a  vision  that  woos 
by  the  great  loveliness  of  its  color. 

But  we  must  make  a  systematic  beginning.  His 
portraiture  is  excellent,  almost  without  exception.  It 
compels  one  to  believe,  without  knowledge,  that  the 
likenesses  are  accurate.  Looking  at  No.  88,  "In  the 
Gardens  of  La  Granja,"  from  the  other  end  of  the 
museum,  The  Optimist  mistook  the  woman  in  the  pic- 
ture for  a  spectator,  and  this  quality  of  boldness  is 
ever  apparent. 

The  portrait  of  her  Majesty  the  Queen  of  Spain 
is  done  like  a  miniature,  with  a  wonderful  soft,  red 
background  of  inestimable  values.  The  smaller  por- 
trait of  the  infant  Prince  of  Asturias  is  especially 
pleasing,  a  charming  thing  with  the  qualities  of  a 

Despues  del  bano 


water  color.  Except  for  the  portraits  of  Senora  So- 
rolla,  No.  V,  "Her  Royal  Highness  Dona  Ysabel  de 
Borbon,"  is  more  imposing  than  any  other  in  the  exhi- 
bition. Sorolla  has  a  great  facility  for  reproducing 
fabrics  that  is  manifest  not  only  in  the  portraits.  His 
gossamer  and  diaphanous  effects,  the  wet,  clinging 
garments  of  the  children  and  the  bathers  sublimate 
realism.  The  Optimist  liked  the  picture  of  the  Mother 
and  Child  in  bed.  It  is  simply  a  gray  canvas  with  the 
dark  heads  against  pillows  and  counterpane  and  with 
the  mother's  outstretched  arm.  O  ye  who  have  babes 
of  your  own !  this  is  maternity,  this  is  childhood. 

Sorolla  must  love  children.  On  canvas  after  can- 
vas they  romp  along  the  beach,  dive  in  the  water,  or 
sprawl  on  the  sands  in  the  sunshine.  The  water  is 
too  clear  to  obscure  their  submerged  limbs  and  bodies. 
What  action  there  is  in  them !  the  awkwardness  and 
the  grace  of  childhood !  Better  still,  its  wholesome, 
unconscious  innocence :  as  if  the  serpent  had  never 
entered  the  Garden.  They  are  beautifully  unashamed. 

No.  104,  "The  Little  Girl  with  Blue  Ribbon,"  will 
never  tire  you,  never  cease  to  please.  With  artless 
grace  the  little  girl— such  a  dainty  child,  as  all  little 
girls  ought  to  be— stands  out  in  the  sunshine  on 
Valencia's  beach.  And  she  stands  out,  too,  as  real, 
as  natural  as  life  and  sunshine.  Nearby  hangs  No. 


68,  "Taking  in  the  Sail."  The  face,  the  red  turban, 
the  white  sail,  all  gleam  in  the  sunshine  that  comes  to 
his  brush  so  irresistibly. 

There  seems  to  be  no  limit  to  Sorolla's  variety  and 
his  industry  has  furnished  an  impulse  to  artists.  It 
is  almost  always  the  light  that  allures.  In  the  Garden 
of  the  Alcazar,  beating  against  the  white  walls  and 
columns  of  a  farmhouse,  dancing  in  the  water,  play- 
ing hide-and-seek  through  the  foliage,  glancing  from 
the  body  of  some  lightly-clad  child,  penetrating  sheer 
fabrics  and  pattering  hot  upon  the  sands ;  always  the 
sunshine.  He  is  a  painter  of  glad,  joyous,  free- 
hearted, exuberant  life.  Nowr  how  could  an  optimist 
fail  to  be  enthusiastic  over  all  this?  Sincerity,  actu- 
ality, sympathy,  and  swiftness  are  the  qualities  of  his 
work  that  make  it  real  and  lasting  and  human. 

No,  there  is  not  all  the  finish  you  may  think  you 
wish,  all  the  avoidance  of  sketchiness.  Sorolla  him- 
self says:  "I  feel  that  if  I  painted  slowly,  I  positively 
could  not  paint  at  all."  He  catches  the  infinite  transi- 
tions of  light  and  shade  and  atmosphere  and,  to  ren- 
der them,  he  must  work  with  infinite  rapidity.  This 
is  one  of  the  great  secrets  of  his  power  and  his 


(The  Call.     New  York,  February  25,  1909.) 


THE  chill  of  our  gray  winter  days  is  soon  dispelled 
before  the  pictures  of  Joaquin  Sorolla  y  Bastida,  at 
the  Hispanic  Museum,  1561!!  Street  and  Broadway. 

Sorolla  loves  the  shine  of  the  scorching  Spanish 
sun ;  he  loves  the  wind  which  caresses  the  little  chil- 
dren who  bask  in  the  sun  and  display  their  nude 
bodies,  and  it  is  here  that  he  is  happiest.  The  children 
frolic,  the  wind  and  sea  frolic,  and  the  painter  plies 
his  brush  in  perfect  sympathy  with  that  frolic. 

Not  that  the  sterner  moods  of  life  fail  to  fall  under 
his  versatile  and  dexterous  brush.  The  Spanish  sea- 
man, bronzed  and  sturdy,  the  weary  peasant,  the  way- 
farer, the  statesman,  the  scholar,  the  soldier,  are  all 
"game"  to  him. 

In  his  struggle  for  life  this  Spaniard  has  met  and 
known  them  all  intimately.  No  mere  fantasy  on  his 
part.  He  was  the  son  of  humble  peasants  of  Valen- 
cia, Spain,  who  died  of  cholera  two  years  after  Joa- 
quin was  born.  He  was  adopted  by  his  aunt,  the 
wife  of  a  locksmith. 

The  boy's  incorrigible  love  for  drawing  interfered 

with  his  work  at  school  and  the  futile  task  of  edu- 
cating him  was  abandoned.  He  was  put  to  work  in 
the  shops  of  his  uncle  and  during  the  evenings  at- 
tended a  local  art  school.  The  hopeless  pupil  proved 
so  apt  a  draftsman  that  he  was  taken  from  the 
shop  and  placed  in  the  Academia  de  Bellas  Artes  of 
San  Carlos.  Success  followed,  and  in  his  rise 
through  life  he  encountered  all  of  the  classes  and 
kinds  of  people  that  he  has  painted. 

But  his  greatest  sympathy,  one  can  readily  see,  lies 
with  those  from  whom  he  came.  Every  mood  and 
occupation  of  theirs  is  known  to  him.  As  fishermen 
he  knows  them  best.  But  not  only  men— sea,  sky  and 
earth,  trees  and  beasts ;  in  fact,  all  that  the  sun  lights 
on,  he  paints.  Sea  and  sky,  earth  and  rocks  are 
enough  for  him,  as  in  Nos.  13  and  17.  Even  the  hot 
sun  he  often  dispenses  with,  as  in  the  two  little  gray 
landscapes,  poems  in  paint,  Nos.  24  and  33.  Here 
sun  is  unnecessary.  A  deep  slope,  splashed  with 
flowers,  a  forest  at  the  bottom  of  the  hill,  a  patch  of 
sky  and  the  thing  is  complete. 

In  his  sunlight  pictures,  sun  and  atmosphere  change 
with  the  theme  he  paints.  Lurid  and  harsh  is  Old 
Sol  when  he  throws  his  rays  on  the  men  "Beaching 
the  Boat"  (318).  The  sail  of  the  boat  is  painful 
and  blinding;  the  bodies  of  the  oxen  clumsy  and 


Excelentisimo  Senor  Conde  de  Villagonzalo 

heavy,  as  in  nature.  But  when  the  sun  lights  on  the 
backs  of  nude  tots  lying  or  playing  on  the  beach, 
wading  or  swimming,  or  on  slightly-clad  boys  and 
girls  running  along  the  beach,  it  is  delicate  and  de- 

This  love  for  the  sun  is  unique.  It  reveals  a  man 
of  sunny  temperament.  It  is  a  physical  sun,  unlike 
the  sun  of  Rembrandt,  which  was  used  to  pierce 
shadowy  gloom  and  reveal  the  torment  of  the  artist's 
soul.  Sorolla  is  not  spiritual  in  that  sense.  Nor  does 
he  clamor  for  the  ideal.  On  the  contrary,  he  is 
poignantly  real,  showing  to  man  the  delights  of  this 
beautiful  world. 

He  is  alienated  from  past  traditions  in  art.  His 
works  are  no  mere  arrangements  in  line,  color,  or 
mass.  He  does  not  seem  to  compose,  Nature  com- 
poses for  him.  With  her  he  is  in  absolute  sympathy. 
He  paints  rapidly,  passionately,  suggestively  the  Spain 
he  knows  and  loves.  All  is  Spanish  in  the  exhibit. 
His  craft  is  big,  vigorous,  and  healthy, '  sacrificing 
detail  for  mass,  but  never  missing  the  salient  features 
which  make  character.  In  this  rendition  he  is  won- 
derful, often  sustaining  himself  thereby  when  his 
color  is  not  so  fortunate  as  in  some  of  his  indoor 

The  portrait  of  his   wife   in   black   dress    (288) 

is  perhaps  the  best  example  of  subtile  painting  in  the 
whole  exhibition.  The  figure  of  the  charming  woman 
is  slightly  posed  and  the  canvas  is  somewhat  "ar- 
ranged," but  I  know  of  few  modern  pictures  that  are 
more  delicately  modeled;  especially  the  head,  which 
is  a  marvel  of  sympathetic  painting.  So,  also,  is  his 
"Senorita  Dona  Maria  Sorolla."  Here  he  cajoled 
the  brush  into  slipping  one  form  into  another.  It  is 
snappy,  crisp,  and  lovely.  Numbers  of  portraits 
other  than  these  grace  the  walls  of  the  museum  and 
attest  the  skill  of  the  artist. 

In  his  "Valencian  Fisherwomen"  (84),  some- 
thing more  than  skill  and  character  is  felt.  The 
painter  is  free  again.  The  picture  is  filled  with  glo- 
rious sunlight  alighting  on  the  gossiping  women  and 
on  the  boats  in  back  of  them.  Here,  as  in  his 
"Beach  of  Valencia  by  Morning  Light"  (307),  one  is 
drawn  into  the  actual.  In  the  latter  canvas  we  envy 
the  youngsters  divested  of  their  clothes  and  bathing 
in  the  water  or  broiling  their  wet  bodies  in  sunshine. 

The  breeze  blows  hard  on  the  sails  yonder,  the 
water  rolls  on  the  beach.  The  canvas  is  full  of  humor, 
the  stubborn  little  nudity  in  the  foreground  refuses  to 
be  lifted  off  the  sand  to  the  delight  of  all  concerned. 
The  fresh  morning  air  is  cool  and  inviting.  Its 
humor  recalls  to  one  "Playing  in  the  Water" 
(306).  Here  the  tenderness  of  childhood  is  treated. 

The  little  babe  is  altogether  at  the  mercy  of  the  older 
playmate,  but  was  never  in  more  loving  hands. 


PERHAPS  the  most  delightful  of  these  sunlight  pic- 
tures is  the  one  called  a  "Sea  Idyl,"  a  song  of  sun- 
shine and  youth.  Two  children,  a  boy  and  a  girl, 
lie  at  the  edge  of  the  water,  lolling  in  the  calm,  soft 
air.  He,  less  timid  than  she,  is  almost  completely 
immersed,  contented  with  the  roll  of  the  warm  water 
over  his  body.  She  but  touches  the  water  with  her 
legs,  to  which  a  wet  garment  clings  tightly.  The 
forms  of  the  soft  flesh  lose  and  find  themselves  in  the 
light,  and  Sorolla  has  followed  carefully  these  notes 
which  interpret  that  action  of  light  on  form. 

This  suggestive  modeling  is  one  of  the  great 
problems  of  modern  painting  that  the  Spaniard  has 
conquered.  The  drawing  of  the  two  figures  is  strong 
and  true,  and  a  light,  airy  color  tones  the  canvas. 
The  charming  childishness  of  both  children  chatting 
with  each  other  throws  off  for  a  moment  thought  of 
the  suffering  children  we  know. 


BUT  Sorolla,  the  seeker  of  the  actual,  in  his  love  for 
healthy  children,  happily  situated,  the  glowing  sun 


and  frolicking  sea  and  wind,  has  not  forgotten  the 
water  over  which  the  wind  is  hushed,  the  sky  heavy 
laden,  the  sun  cool,  the  children  whose  sad  inheritance 
it  is  to  be  crippled  or  imbecile. 

His  "Sad  Inheritance"  (350)  is  a  picture  of  a 
priest  guarding  a  lot  of  deformed  boys  at  their  bath. 
His  duty  it  is  to  take  the  place  of  the  lost  mother 
and  to  substitute  motherly  care.  The  figure  of  the 
noble  priest,  with  black  robe  pitched  against  a  dark 
and  somber  sea,  occupies  a  goodly  part  of  the  fore- 
ground of  the  picture.  He  leads  one  badly  deformed 
child  and  several  others  follow.  Their  nude  bodies 
are  lighted  by  the  sun,  but  it  is  a  sad  sun,  bland,  mak- 
ing us  almost  forget  the  sense  of  the  outdoor.  Cool 
shadows,  taking  on  reflections,  increase  the  depressing 
spirit  of  the  canvas.  Blank  miles  of  quiet  water 
stretch  out  before  us.  The  limitless  sea  loses  itself 
in  darkness.  Gently  it  rolls  its  waves  in  on  the  bath- 
ers as  though  careful  of  the  figures  that  are  unable  to 
frolic  along  the  beach  or  in  its  waters.  They,  many 
with  crutches  to  support  them,  move  painfully  and 
slowly.  The  head  of  the  priest,  barely  touched  by 
light,  looks  down  at  the  cripple  he  is  leading.  Tightly 
he  holds  his  charge,  whose  misshapen  leg  and  torse 
show  his  sad  inheritance. 

Need  we  speak  of  the  technical  virtues  of  this  can- 

vas,  which  Sorolla  has  done  with  a  sympathy  and  re- 
serve nowhere  surpassed  in  this  collection  of  pictures  ? 
And  as  for  motif— here,  it  is  shadow  touched  by 
gloomy  light,  as  though  to  complement  the  spirit  of 
the  exhibition. 

Of  all  the  350  paintings  not  one  is  more  popular; 
no  other  but  this  destroys  whatever  happiness  we  may 


(The  Independent,  February  25,  1909.) 


NEW  YORK  has  been  made  to  realize  two  things  this 
month,  of  which  most  of  its  citizens  were  before 
unaware.  One -was  the  existence  and  charm  of  the 
building  in  West  I56th  Street  of  the  Hispanic  So- 
ciety of  America,  founded  on  good  broad  lines  for 
the  furtherance  of  our  knowledge  of  things  Span- 
ish, and  the  other  is  the  existence  which  this 
Society  again  has  enabled  us  to  appreciate  of  a 
mighty  descendant  of  the  seventeenth-century  artists 
of  Spain  in  the  person  of  Joaquin  Sorolla  y  Bastida. 
The  work  of  Sorolla  shows  influence  from  the 
great  naturalistic  wave  in  French  nineteenth-century 

art  but  obviously  Velazquez  himself  was  very  seri- 
ously studied  by  this  modern  master  of  other  know- 
ledge unknown  to  Velazquez.  Knowledge  of  light 
and  movement  above  all.  No  photograph  can  give  a 
true  idea  of  the  brilliant  technic  of  this  man,  whose 
eye  seizes  and  whose  hand  fixes  almost  instantly  all 
the  movements  and  colors  and  characters  to  be  seen 
in  his  country,  especially  by  its  seas.  His  vision  is 
always  clear,  and  poetic  only  as  poetry  dwells  in  his 
subject  matter  always;  yet  his  things  have  other 
depth  of  splendidly  virile  achievements  and  of  his 
school  he  has  no  rivals.  In  portraiture  one  is  tempted 
to  compare  him  with  Sargent  and  to  feel  some 
similarity  in  points  of  view,  but  probably  his  best 
portraits  are  not  here,  while  his  best  genre  works  are. 
Never  has  the  mother  just  after  the  birth  of  her 
child  been  so  touchingly  painted  as  in  the  large,  quiet 
toned  canvas,  showing  only  the  expanse  of  white 
covered  bed,  with  the  two  heads  appearing.  The 
only  darker  spots,  the  mother's  head  turned  in,  are 
toward  the  wee  mite,  with  eyes  tightly  shut.  Seldom 
has  the  horror  of  deformity  been  so  intensely  painted 
as  in  the  sad  colored  "Sad  Inheritance,"  with  its 
foreground  group  of  crippled  boys  led  down  to  the 
sea  by  the  strong,  stern  priest,  whom  yet  we  feel  is 
sympathetic,  though  we  can  see  only  his  back.  A 

third  large  canvas,  called  in  English  "Oxen  Preparing 
to  Beach  Fishing  Boats,"  is  as  different  again  as 
possible,  and  such  an  absolutely  true  rendering  of 
one  of  the  sturdiest  of  activities  for  men,  beasts,  and 
boats,  that  it  fairly  excites  one,  as  would  the  scene 
itself.  Then  there  are  beautiful  landscapes  and  many 
small  sketches  of  the  swimming  and  wading  joys  of 
young  boys  and  girls  he  paints  so  often— merrily, 
gracefully,  strongly,  or  in  whatever  mood  the  scene 
presented  itself. 

A  portrait  of  Madrazo,  the  painter,  in  his  garden 
is  an  exceedingly  beautiful  thing,  but  the  large  royal 
portraits  lack  sincerity,  as  it  seems  royal  portraits 
must,  though  a  small  one  of  King  Alfonso  is  char- 
acteristic and  consequently  convincingly  ugly.  The 
exhibition  will  remain  open  until  March  8th,  when  it 
will  be  succeeded  by  a  showing  of  work  by  another 
Spaniard,  Zuloaga. 

(The  Literary  Digest,  February  27,  1909.) 


SPAIN  is  vigorously  contesting  with  Germany  for 
American  admiration  of  her  contemporary  art.  Vis- 
itors to  the  galleries  in  New  York  now  divide  their 

attention  between  the  German  exhibition  at  the 
Metropolitan  and  the  works  of  the  Spanish  master 
Sorolla  y  Bastida  at  the  Hispanic  Museum.  Three 
hundred  and  fifty  specimens  of  this  artist's  work  are 
shown,  and  critics  and  admirers  are  applauding  the 
joyous,  vital,  sunny  spirit  of  this  man  who  chiefly 
paints  sunshine  and  love,  the  frolics  of  children,  and 
the  play  of  the  waves  on  the  seashore.  "No  one  who 
appreciates  great  painting,"  says  the  critic  of  the 
New  York  "Evening  Post,"  "should  miss  seeing  this 
exhibition,  for  Sorolla  is  a  very  great  painter;  not 
one  of  his  brother  artists,  not  one  amateur  of  art  who 
has  seen  his  work,  but  ranks  him  among  the  greatest 
painters  of  the  day."  The  painter  tells  you  that  he 
hates  darkness.  "Claude  Monet  once  said  that  paint- 
ing in  general  did  not  have  light  enough  in  it.  I 
agree  with  him.  We  painters,  however,  can  never 
reproduce  sunlight  as  it  really  is.  I  can  only  approach 
the  truth  of  it."  Mr.  Huneker,  in  "The  Sun"  (New 
York),  looks  upon  him  as  "the  painter  of  sunshine 
without  equal."  Admitting  no  "mincing  of  com- 
parisons," he  asserts  that  "not  Turner,  not  Monet, 
painted  so  directly  blinding  shafts  of  sunshine  as  has 
this  Spaniard."  Of  his  method  Mr.  Huneker  writes: 

"After  years  of  labor  he  has  achieved  a  personal 
vision.     It  is  so  completely  his  that  to  copy  it  \vould 


be  to  perpetrate  a  burlesque.  He  employs  the  divi- 
sional fetches  of  Monet,  spots,  cross-hatchings,  big, 
saberlike  strokes  a  la  John  Sargent,  indulges  in 
smooth  sinuous  silhouettes,  or  huge  splotches,  re- 
fulgent patches,  explosions,  vibrating  surfaces;  sur- 
faces that  are  smooth  and  oily,  surfaces,  as  in  his 
waters,  that  are  exquisitely  translucent.  You  can't 
pin  him  clown  to  a  particular  formula.  His  technic 
in  other  hands  would  be  coarse,  crashing,  brassy, 
bald,  and  too  fortissimo.  It  is  not  any  of  these, 
though  it  is  too  often  deficient  in  the  finer  modula- 
tions. He  makes  one  forget  this  synthetic  technic  by 
his  entrain,  sincerity,  and  sympathy  with  his  subject. 
Apart  from  his  luscious,  tropical  color  he  is  a  sober 
narrator  of  facts.  Ay,  but  he  is  a  big  chap,  this 
amiable  little  Valencian  with  a  big  heart  and  a  hand 
that  reaches  out  and  grabs  down  clouds,  skies,  scoops 
up  the  sea,  and  sets  running,  wriggling,  screaming 
a  joyful  band  of  naked  boys  and  girls  over  the 
golden  summer  sands  in  a  sort  of  ecstatic  symphony 
of  pantheism.  Imagine  Walt  Whitman  (omitting 
the  'Children  of  Adam'),  Walt  when  he  evokes  a 
mass  of  animated  youth,  and  you  will  faintly  gather 
the  rich  colored  rhythms  of  Seiior  Sorolla's  pictures." 

Mr.  Huneker  thrusts  in  a  caution  against  suppos- 
ing that  because  of  Sorolla's  "enormous  brio  his 
general  way  of  entrapping  nature  is  brutal."  We  get 
some  further  ideas  of  what  appeals  to  him,  and  how 

he  stands  in  relation  to  a  fellow-painter,  Zuloaga, 
whose  work  is  to  follow  his  at  the  same  place  of  ex- 
hibition : 

"He  is  masculine  and  absolutely  free  from  the 
neurasthenic  morbidezsa  of  his  fellow-countryman, 
Zuloaga.  (And  far  from  attaining  that  painter's 
inches  as  a  psychologist.)  For  the  delineation  of 
moods  nocturnal,  of  poetic  melancholy,  of  the  con- 
templative aspect  of  life  we  must  not  go  to  Sorolla. 
He  is  not  a  thinker.  He  is  the  painter  of  bright 
mornings  and  brisk  salt  breezes.  He  is  half  Greek. 
There  is  Winckelmann's  Heiterkeit,  blitheness,  in  his 
groups  of  romping  children,  in  their  unashamed 
bare  skins  and  naive  attitudes.  Boys  on  Valencian 
beaches  evidently  believe  in  Adamic  undress.  Nor 
do  the  girls  seem  to  care.  Stretched  upon  his  stomach 
on  the  beach,  a  youth,  straw-hatted,  stares  at  the 
spume  of  the  rollers.  His  companion  is  not  so  un- 
conventionally disarrayed,  and  as  she  has  evidently 
not  eaten  of  the  poisonous  apple  of  wisdom  she  is 
free  from  embarrassment.  Balzac's  two  infants, 
innocent  of  their  sex,  could  not  be  less  carefree  than 
the  Sorolla  children.  How  tenderly,  sensitively  he 
models  the  hardly  nubile  forms  of  maidens !  The 
movement  of  their  legs  as  they  race  the  strand,  their 
dash  into  the  water,  or  their  nervous  pausing  at  the 
rim  of  the  wet — here  is  poetry  for  you,  the  poetry  of 
glorious  days  in  youthland.  Curiously  enough  his 
types  are  for  the  most  part  more  international  than 

racial;  that  is,  racial  as  are  Zuloaga's  Basque  brig- 
ands, manolas,  and  gipsies. 

""But  only  this  ?  Can't  he  paint  anything  but  mas- 
sive oxen  wading  to  their  buttocks  in  the  sea ;  or 
fisher-boats  with  swelling  sails  blotting  out  the  hori- 
zon; or  a  girl  after  a  dip  standing,  as  her  boyish 
cavalier  covers  her  with  a  robe—you  see  the  clear 
pink  flesh  through  her  garb;  or  vistas  of  flower- 
gardens  with  roguish  maidens  and  courtly  parks ; 
peasants  harvesting,  working  women  sorting  raisins ; 
sailors  mending  nets,  boys  at  rope-making—is  all  this 
great  art?  Where  are  the  polished  surfaces  of  the 
cultured  studio  worker ;  where  the  bric-a-brac  which 
we  inseparably  connect  with  pseudo-Spanish  art? 
You  will  not  find  any  of  them.  Sorolla  with  good 
red  blood  in  his  veins,  the  blood  of  a  great,  misunder- 
stood race,  paints  what  he  sees  on  the  top  of  God's 
earth.  He  is  not  a  book-  but  a  nature-poet ;  not  a  vir- 
tuoso of  the  brush  but  a  normal  man  of  genius.  He 
is  in  love  with  light,  and  by  his  treatment  of  relative 
values  creates  the  illusion  of  sun-flooded  landscapes. 
He  does  not  cry  for  the  'sun,'  as  did  Oswald  Alving; 
it  comes  to  him  at  the  beckoning  of  his  brush.  His 
limitations  are  but  the  defects  of  his  good  qualities. 
Let  us  not  expect  a  Zuloaga  when  we  have  a  Sorolla. 
Zuloaga  comes  to  us  soon;  and  as  Goethe  said  of 
Schiller  and  himself,  'Germany  ought  to  be  proud  of 
two  such  big  fellows.'  This  remark  applies  to  Spain, 
Sorolla,  and  Zuloaga  as  well." 

One  picture  in  the  collection  strikes  another  note — 
"the  one  sad  picture  of  the  collection."  In  "The 
Evening  Post"  we  read  of  it : 

"It  is  called  Triste  Herencia'  ('Sad  Inheritance'), 
and  belongs  to  John  E.  Berwind.  It  hung  in  the 
Sunday-school  room  of  the  Church  of  the  Ascension, 
on  Fifth  Avenue;  yet  few  knew  that  New  York  pos- 
sessed this  masterpiece.  The  'sad  inheritance'  has 
come  to  a  number  of  crippled  or  imbecile  boys  who 
are  being  watched  over  by  a  priest  as  they  take  their 
bath  on  the  beach  at  Valencia  that  has  lost  all  the 
gladsomeness  of  Sorolla's  other  beach  pieces.  Here 
again  the  artist  displays  his  marvelous  powers  of 
draftsmanship.  There  is  a  boy  in  the  right-hand  cor- 
ner of  the  picture  shading  his  eyes  from  the  sun,  the 
modeling  of  whose  figure  simply  indicated  by  the 
shadow  on  his  stomach  is  quite  extraordinary,  and 
that  of  other  boys  on  crutches  is  no  less  remarkable." 

(The  Cincinnati  Times-Star,  February  27,  1909.) 


IF  it  were  possible  to  write  an  adequate  account  of  the 
Sorolla  exhibition,  it  would  be  of  doubtful  kindness 
to  any  one  who  was  not  to  see  the  pictures.  It  would 

[304  ] 

simply  make  such  an  one  disgusted  with  fate  and  the 
writer  for  creating  a  hunger  not  to  be  satisfied. 
Three  hundred  and  fifty  paintings,  big  and  little,  all 
by  one  man,  all  in  one  building,  and  not  an  uninter- 
esting one  in  the  lot!  Standing  in  the  presence  of 
this  amazing  display,  it  is  impossible  for  any  one  with 
a  grain  of  art  in  his  nature  to  remain  unmoved.  If 
you  have  never  cared  for  pictures  before,  here  is  the 
provocation  for  an  awakening.  But  if  you  are  al- 
ready infatuated  with  things  beautiful,  have  a  care 
how  you  drink  of  the  wine  of  life  which  this  wonder- 
ful Spaniard  offers  you. 

Surrounded  by  the  pictures,  it  is  impossible  to  think 
or  talk  in  moderation.  It  goes  to  the  head  instantly 
with  the  finest  of  intoxications.  Here  is  the  work  of 
a  man  surcharged  with  the  joy  of  things  and  of  life 
to  an  unparalleled  degree.  So  many  people  coming 
into  the  room  exclaim :  "Why,  I  had  no  idea  it  was 
like  this.  It  's  not  like  anything  I  ever  saw  before. 
Just  look  at  the  color.  Look  at  that  girl  coming  out 
of  the  water,  and  see  those  boats;  why  he  paints 
landscapes,  too,  and  the  portrait  of  the  King.  Why 
he  paints  everything.  What  a  cunning  baby!" 

This  is  an  excerpt  merely.  What  Sorolla  has  not 
recorded  of  life  would  be  hard  to  tell.  He  is  one  of 
the  most  comprehensive,  omniverous.  and  artistically 


successful  painters  the  world  has  ever  seen.  Until 
this  showing  of  his  work,  but  very  few  in  America 
knew  him,  even  by  name.  The  present  exhibition  is 
beyond  all  manner  of  doubt  one  of  the  most  important 
events  in  our  entire  art  history.  When  one  realizes 
that  the  pictures  are  assembled  here  for  only  a  period 
of  a  few  weeks,  it  incites  to  further  extravagances  of 
thought.  For  instance,  that  the  nation  should  rise  en 
masse,  purchase  the  entire  collection  as  the  greatest 
lesson  in  art  it  has  ever  had,  and  then  delegate  its 
most  alluring  orator  to  call  upon  Senor  Sorolla  and 
persuade  him  that  he  could  find  a  congenial  working 
home  in  America.  So  we  should  be  in  a  fair  way  to 
be  born  again,  to  assure  for  America  a  true  renais- 
sance. It  is  heart-breaking  to  think  of  this  oppor- 
tunity for  development,  for  intellectual  advancement, 
for  riding  the  crest  of  the  highest  tide  of  life,  slipping 
away  from  us.  At  most  only  a  few  thousand  souls 
will  read  this  sermon  in  paint,  \vhere  millions  should 
have  the  benefit  of  it.  I  am  a  peaceably  inclined  citi- 
zen, but  truly  the  situation  stirs  within  me  feelings 
which  point  to  the  probability  that  some  of  my  for- 
bears were  pirates. 

Sorolla  is  a  man  who,  as  we  express  it  in  this  coun- 
try, has  made  himself.  Heaven  knows  he  had  good 
raw  material  to  work  with.  He  was  born  in  1863  in 

Valencia.  It  is  a  strong  argument  in  favor  of  not 
having  circumstances  too  easy  in  this  life  that  he 
began  and  struggled  through  many  of  his  earlier 
years  with  very  little  beside  his  genius.  He  was  born 
neither  to  wealth  nor  position,  and  to  complicate  mat- 
ters, was  left  an  orphan  at  two  years  of  age.  He  was 
taken  in  charge  by  an  uncle  and  aunt,  and  sent  to 
school.  There  he  showed  a  greater  gift  for  making 
scrawls  of  pictures  on  his  books  than  for  profiting  by 
them  in  the  way  they  were  intended.  It  seems  hard 
to  believe,  but  it  is  a  fact  that  his  teacher  had  the 
brains  to  encourage,  or  at  least  tolerate  this  form  of 
waywardness,  and  so  did  his  guardians.  At  fifteen 
years  of  age  they  took  him  out  of  school  and  gave 
him  all  the  help  their  moderate  circumstances  made 
possible  toward  an  art  career.  Sorolla  rewarded  this 
insight  by  early  winning  prizes.  A  scholarship  finally 
took  him  to  Rome,  and  later  he  went  to  Paris.  But 

"In  spite  of  all  temptations 
To  belong  to  other  nations," 

he  remains  most  emphatically  a  Spaniard,  and  his 
talent  is  devoted  to  a  comprehensive  portrait  of  his 
home  country  and  its  people. 

His  overwhelming  fecundity  indicates  at  once  cer- 
tain characteristics  of  his  art.  First,  in  technic,  a 
great  breadth  and  swiftness;  second,  an  immense 


sympathy  with  the  game  of  life  and  its  players.  His 
great  passion  is  sunshine.  He  is  exuberant,  keen, 
tender,  whimsical,  brusque,  philosophic,  but  always 
strong  and  impeccably  frank.  It  is  unnecessary  to 
add  that  he  is  original. 

His  pictures  are  shown  in  the  beautiful  patio  of 
the  Hispanic  Society.  This  organization  invited 
Senor  Sorolla  to  be  its  guest  and  to  show  this  large 
collection,  in  the  desire  to  bring  about  a  more  inti- 
mate understanding  of  the  Spanish  people  by  those  of 
America.  The  hosts  must  feel  very  content  with  the 
welcome  of  appreciation  which  their  generosity  has 
brought  forth. 

Sorolla  has  the  rare  gift  possessed  by  some  speak- 
ers of  getting  his  idea  before  you  in  the  simplest  and 
quickest  way.  His  pictures  indicate  at  once  that  he 
has  an  idea ;  and  they  do  not  cover  the  idea  up  with  a 
mass  of  pictorial  verbiage.  You  know  what  he  is 
talking  about,  you  recognize  promptly  that  it  is  just 
what  you  want  to  know,  and  he  does  not  bother  you 
with  those  by-products  of  intellectual  gymnastics 
which  cover  up,  instead  of  uncovering,  the  idea.  It  is 
an  art  without  a  grain  of  affectation.  He  never  lays 
on  a  stroke  of  paint  to  make  you  think  he  is  showing 
off.  And  he  does  n't  make  one  canvas  try  to  do  the 
work  of  half  a  dozen. 

That,  of  course,  does  not  mean  he  is  understood  by 
everybody,  for  we  are  not  by  nature  very  simple  in 
the  artistic  sense.  The  taste  for  simplicity  is  a  thing 
often  to  be  acquired.  Some  people  want  a  painting 
to  tell  them  all  the  facts,  much  after  the  fashion  of  a 
photograph.  But  then  there  are  those  who  will  sit 
down  and  peruse  the  dictionary  for  diversion,  instead 
of  a  good  yarn.  "He  's  an  impressionist,"  say  these 
votaries  of  truth ;  and  the  whole  truth,  be  it  noted. 

Sorolla  is  indeed  an  impressionist,  and  a  fine  one, 
too.  "These  paintings,"  said  a  lady  who,  by  the 
way,  is  a  well-known  artist,  "are  plans  for  pictures." 
Certain  spots  and  lines  here  and  there  on  the  can- 
vases disturbed  her,  where  things  had  smeared  a  little, 
bent  a  little  out  of  good  drawing,  or  were  left  frankly 
unfinished.  She  resented  these,  just  as  she  would 
doubtless  resent  that  a  fine  orator  should  make  a  slip 
of  grammar,  or  repeat  a  word,  catch  his  breath,  or 
clear  his  throat.  A  devotion  to  details  which  have  no 
bearing  on  the  point  at  issue — the  thought  being 
presented — is  a  mental  cerecloth. 

If  much  is  left  out  of  these  canvases  it  is  only  that 
other  facts  may  appear  with  greater  emphasis,  that 
the  imagination  of  the  beholder  may  gather  some 
momentum  from  that  of  the  artist.  Whatever  is  told 
is  given  with  such  virility,  brilliancy,  and  precision 

that  even  the  most  unwilling  to  believe  can  not  say 
that  it  is  necessary  to  write  "cow"  under  any  picture 
Sorolla  intends  for  "cow."  And  if  he  paints  one 
purple  he  's  apt  to  convince  you. 

Sorolla  has  the  gift  of  making  you  feel  at  home 
wherever  he  leads  the  way,  on  the  shore  among  the 
boats  with  fisherman  and  bathers,  in  the  fields  and 
cities  of  Spain,  with  peasants  and  grandees,  or  across 
lonely  mountain  passes.  He  introduces  you  to  the 
most  vividly  painted  and  varied  personalities  in  his 
portraits.  He  appears  to  understand  every  kind  of 
individual  from  king  to  beggar,  and  every  age  from 
the  nonagenarian  to  the  new-born  babe.  The  collec- 
tion here  shown  contains  many  examples,  all  of  them 
admirable,  of  this  so  difficult  phase  of  art. 

Those  roads  and  bridges,  arid  wastes  and  thickly 
wooded  hills,  the  gorges  and  running  waters  of  Spain, 
are  brilliant  and  dramatic  with  color  and  light  and  are 
true  pictures — every  one.  That  of  the  young  girl 
who  has  just  stepped  from  her  ocean  bath,  with  her 
wet  costume  clinging  to  her,  while  a  youth  is  throw- 
ing a  great  white  sheet  about  her,  is  one  which  seems 
to  leave  no  one  untouched.  It  embodies  the  whole 
grace  and  wholesome  light-heartedness  of  youth,  all 
bathed  in  brilliant,  rich-colored  Spanish  sunshine. 

If  Sorolla  leads  you  in  serious,  sad,  or  even  tragic 

Excelentisitno  Senor  D.  Marcelino  Menendez  y  Pelaj 


Kxcelentisimo  Senor  D.  Aureliano  tie  Berut 


paths  it  is  because  he  understands  all  sides  of  life  and 
would  have  his  report  free  from  ill  proportion.  His 
"Sad  Inheritance,"  fortunately  owned  in  this  country, 
shows  a  priest  watching  over  his  charge,  a  troop  of 
sickly,  maimed,  and  feeble-minded  boys  as  they  take 
an  ocean  dip.  You  come  upon  it  in  this  joyous  exhi- 
bition as  you  might  in  life,  unawares,  a  stern  re- 
minder of  the  tragic  reach  which  our  sympathies  must 
have  if  we  are  to  call  ourselves  human  in  any  ade- 
quate sense  of  the  word.  We  return  with  fuller 
appreciation  of  the  value,  of  the  great  cost,  of  joy 
from  such  a  sermon  to  the  overflowing  health  of  the 
large  picture  of  Sorolla's  daughters  on  horseback, 
dressed  in  lovely  costumes  of  former  days. 

Sorolla  y  Bastida  has  the  instinct  of  a  Shakspere 
with  his  wide  grasp  of  nature  and  life,  and  his  lyric 
and  epic  presentation  of  it.  His  work  should  incite 
a  public  to  active  conspiracy  with  artists,  through 
intelligent  appreciation,  to  become  alive,  to  make  their 
art  big  with  the  bigness  of  life  itself  through  their 
own  bigness  of  heart  and  mind. 


(The  Philadelphia  Inquirer,  February  28,  1909.) 


IT  is  not  often  that  a  one-man  exhibition  can  fascinate 
a  community  to  the  extent  that  the  works  of  the 
modern  Spanish  master,  Joaquin  Sorolla  y  Bastida, 
have  done  at  the  Hispanic  Museum,  i56th  Street  and 
Broadway,  New  York,  during-  the  last  fortnight. 

Up  to  the  present  time  53,494  persons  have  visited 
the  exhibition.  Last  Sunday  alone  the  attendance 
ivas  10,296  and  on  Washington's  birthday  11,906. 
In  fact,  William  M.  Chase,  instructor  at  the  Penn- 
sylvania Academy  of  the  Fine  Arts,  considered  it  of 
such  importance  that  he  took  his  entire  class  over  to 
New  York  to  see  it. 

The  exhibit,  composed  of  350  pictures,  over  a  hun- 
dred of  which  are  small  sketches,  is  the  sensation  of 
the  hour  in  the  art  world  of  New  York.  Until  now 
little  has  been  known  of  this  man's  work  among 
Americans,  except  by  a  few  artists  living  abroad,  so 
that  the  present  display  comes  as  a  complete  revela- 

The  Metropolitan  Museum  has  purchased  two  of 
the  pictures,  "Oxen  Hauling  Boats  on  Valencia 

Kxcelentisimo  Senor  Marques  de  \Tiana 


Beach"  and  his  composition  group,  "Leonese  Peas- 
ants," both  large  canvases,  for  its  permanent  collec- 

Most  of  the  paintings  are  landscapes,  with  some 
few  portraits,  but  it  is  in  his  depiction  of  nature  that 
Sorolla  chiefly  excels.  These  canvases  are  beautiful 
in  color,  full  of  sunlight  and  atmosphere  and  air. 

What  Sorolla  seeks  is  not  to  paint  facts  or  to  tell 
a  story,  but  to  convey  to  the  spectator  something  of 
the  glad  joy  of  life  that  is  felt  out  of  doors  with 
nature— in  contact  with  the  sun's  warm  rays,  the  cool 
play  of  the  breezes,  and  the  broad  expanse  of  sky  and 
sea.  It  is  primarily  these  moods  of  nature  that  So- 
rolla grasps  and  transmits  to  his  canvases,  and  in 
their  ability  to  hold,  to  thrill,  and  fascinate  the  on- 
looker they  stand  the  test  of  all  real  art.  An  artist 
friend  of  Sorolla  says  that  he  never  makes  a  correc- 
tion in  his  drawing. 

But  it  is  not  alone  as  a  colorist  that  Sorolla  excels ; 
he  is  a  great  draftsman  as  well.  In  the  large 
canvas  bought  by  the  Metropolitan,  for  instance,  the 
character  and  action  of  the  oxen  straining  under  their 
load,  the  various  attitudes  and  movements  of  the 
figures,  show  a  perfect  mastery  of  technic. 

In  the  portrait  groups  is  one  of  the  young  King  of 
Spain  and  one  of  the  Queen,  also  a  full-length,  seated 


portrait  of  the  Spanish  artist  Maclrazo.  All  are  well 
rendered,  but  not  so  charming  as  his  landscapes. 

As  to  the  life  of  this  remarkable  man — he  was  born 
in  Valencia,  Spain,  forty-seven  years  ago.  Left  an 
orphan  when  but  two  years  old,  he  was  adopted  by  a 
poor  though  kind-hearted  aunt.  Early  in  life  Sorolla 
took  an  interest  in  drawing,  and  when  fifteen  was  sent 
to  the  academy  at  Valencia  to  study  art,  where  he 
soon  won  a  prize  for  color  and  drawing.  A  man  of 
means,  seeing  talent  in  the  boy,  paid  for  his  studies 
for  several  years.  Later  Sorolla  married  his  patron's 

As  usually  happens,  his  pictures  at  first  received 
little  recognition,  but  when  his  scene  of  the  Spanish 
War  of  Independence  was  first  exhibited  at  Madrid 
it  immediately  brought  him  fame.  After  that  he 
went  to  Rome  and  Paris  on  a  scholarship.  His  "Fish- 
ing-Boats Returning,"  exhibited  first  at  the  Paris 
Salon,  was  bought  by  the  French  government  for  the 
Luxembourg.  Since  then  his  fame  has  been  uni- 

And  yet,  Sorolla  is  a  modest,  retiring  little  man, 
devoted  to  his  art,  his  country,  and  his  Spanish 

The  exhibit  will  remain  in  New  York  until  March 
8th,  after  which  it  will  go  to  Buffalo.  Why  not 

[334  ] 

(The  New  York  Times,  February  28,  1909.) 

IN  the  recent  issue  of  "The  Bulletin"  of  the  Metro- 
politan Museum  it  is  stated  with  caution :  "In  matters 
of  art,  we  in  this  country  have  so  long  been  accus- 
tomed to  turn  to  France  for  our  inspirations  and  ex- 
amples that  it  may  well  be  that  we  have  not  been 
sufficiently  alive  to  what  has  been  going  on  in  other 
countries."  It  would  not  be  stating  the  case  too 
strongly  to  say  that  we  have  been  absurdly  apathetic 
toward  what  has  been  going  on  in  other  countries. 
Our  painters  have  been  to  school  in  France  with  few 
exceptions,  and  in  the  nursery  at  home  we  have  been 
interested  in  the  outside  world  only  as  it  brought  us 
news  from  the  schoolroom,  where  our  big  brothers 
were  having  their  chance.  Fortunately  and  naturally 
with  the  gradual  advance  toward  maturity  of  interests 
and  a  wider  culture  we  are  ready  to  change  our  point 
of  view.  The  German  exhibition  is  one  sign,  for,  in 
spite  of  the  fact  that  it  owes  its  existence  to  the 
broad-minded  generosity  of  a  private  citizen,  its  en- 
thusiastic reception  by  the  public  shows  that  the  public 
is  no  longer  cribbed,  cabined,  and  confined  in  taste  or 
judgment.  The  Spanish  exhibits  of  the  Hispanic 
Museum  are  due  to  the  energy  and  high  ideals  of  a 


private  citizen,  and  here  also  the  public  has  responded 
with  joyous  appreciation.  We  are  promised  an  exhi- 
bition of  modern  English  painting.  The  ball  has 
been  set  rolling,  and  it  is  impossible  to  predict  the 
proportions  to  which  it  will  attain.  But  it  will  be  a 
great  mistake  to  permit  any  reaction  against  French 
art  to  creep  into  the  general  feeling.  The  modern 
French  art  that  is  having  a  representation  at  Montreal 
must  come  here  also. 

IN  a  city  not  supposed  to  be  characterized  by  an 
interest  in  art  there  has  been  a  truly  amazing  wel- 
come accorded  to  both  the  German  exhibition  at  the 
Metropolitan  Museum  and  the  Sorolla  exhibition  at 
the  Hispanic  Museum.  At  the  German  exhibit  the 
attendance  from  January  4th,  the  day  on  which  the 
exhibition  opened,  until  February  22d,  the  day  of  its 
closing,  was  168,074.  At  the  Sorolla  exhibition  the 
attendance  from  February  4th  until  the  morning  of 
February  25th  was  43,358.  In  the  case  of  the 
Sorolla  exhibition  the  first  four  days  were  devoted 
to  a  public  especially  invited.  The  two  record  days 
of  this  exhibition  were  Washington's  Birthday,  when 
11,906  people  visited  the  galleries,  and  the  preceding 
Sunday,  when  10,296  people  were  there.1 

1    The   full   record  of  attendance   is  given  on  a   subsequent 


(The  Evening  Post,  March  6,  1909.) 

THE  Sorolla  exhibition  leaves  us  to-morrow.  Its 
memories  will  remain  with  us  for  many  a  long  day. 
An  article  by  Christian  Brinton  on  "Sorolla  at  the 
Hispanic  Society,"  which  appears  in  the  current  num- 
ber of  the  "International  Studio"  gives  a  very  lucid 
view  of  the  Spanish  painter's  art.  It  is  the  fairest 
article  on  the  subject  that  we  have  read.  Mr.  Brinton 
speaks  of  "the  luminous  and  stimulating  art  of  So- 
rolla," of  his  being  "the  strongest  personality  of  his 
circle,"  "that  aggressive  group  of  artists  who  are 
to-day  reviving  with  such  veracity  and  force  the  an- 
cient pictorial  supremacy  of  their  country,"  Spain; 
he  tells  us  how  "there  has  never  been  and  there  can 
never  be  anything  speculative  or  philosophical  in  the 
art  of  the  Iberian  Peninsula,"  that  "Spanish  painting 
does  not  express  symbols,  it  records  facts,"  that  "ful- 
filling the  broad,  traditional  requirements  of  Spanish 
painting  in  general,  yet  bathed  in  the  vibrant  splendor 
of  the  modern  palette,  the  art  of  Sorolla  suggests  in 
technical  surety  that  of  Zorn,  Besnard,  or  Sargent." 
"Yet  none  of  these  men  equals  the  sturdy  Valencian 
in  his  close  contact  with  reality,  in  the  rapidity  of  his 


impressionistic  notation  or  the  magnificent  robustness 
of  his  outlook."  We  would  recommend  a  reading  of 
Mr.  Brinton's  article  to  a  certain  impressionist  painter 
of  this  city  who  could  see  nothing  but  a  chromo  in 
Sorolla's  "Beaching  the  Boat,*'  and  only  snapshots  in 
the  beach  pictures. 

MR.  BRINTON'S  article,  however,  is  not  all  praise. 
Sorolla's  "powers  of  ready  notation  are  truly  phe- 
nomenal," but  "it  is  not  so  apparent  that  he  is  able 
deliberately  to  face  a  sitter  and  reconstruct  upon 
canvas  his  (the  sitter's)  inner,  as  well  as  his  outer 
semblance."  The  majority  of  the  Sorolla  portraits, 
Mr.  Brinton  finds  "lacking  in  depth  and  inevitability." 
Sorolla  is  "not  contemplative.  He  does  not  in  por- 
traiture patiently  await  that  confiding  self-revelation 
which  comes  with  time  alone."  It  is  a  pity  that  this 
interesting  and  judicial  article  did  not  appear  earlier 
when  unexpectedly  large  crowds  were  filling  the  Mu- 
seum on  1 56th  Street.  It  would  have  assisted  these 
crowds  to  a  fuller  appreciation  of  the  heights  to 
which  Sorolla  had  reached  in  that  "Jubilant  Sym- 
phony of  Sunlight,"  to  a  recognition  of  his  limita- 
tions and  of  the  cause  of  them — he  confesses  himself 
he  can  feel  no  sympathy  with  a  sitter  in  a  studio— 

C  346:1 

when  he  leaves  outdoor  life.  But  better  late  than 
never,  the  article  will  serve  to  keep  alive  the  distinct 
revelation  the  Sorolla  exhibition  has  been  to  the 
American  public. 

(The  New  York  Times,  March  6,  1909.) 


PAINTER  of  radiant  childhood,  the  sun  and  the  open 


Painter  of  pitiful  babies  broken  by  Destiny, 
Painter  of  flesh  and  spirit,  of  youth  the  dreamer 

Painter  of  men  and  women,  of  faces  like  thine  or 

Master  of  men's  soul-secrets,  master  of  women's 

I  bring  thee  greeting,  Sorolla,  and  honor  for  thy  full 


Painter  of  winds  and  waters,  of  winds  that  laugh  as 

they  blow, 
Of  waters  blue  as  yon  Heaven,  of  sunshine  hotly 



Painter  of  sharp  swift  motion,  of  sea-sprite  babies 

that  flee 
Out  to  the  flashing  breakers,  out  to  their  Mother  the 

Master  of  painted  motion,  lord  of  the  sea  and  the 

We  bring  thee  greeting,  Sorolla,  and  hearts  that  may 

understand ! 

For  we  of  this  young  strong  Nation  are  keen  for  the 

thing  that  is  true, 
We  want  the  art  that  is  Honest  and  we  prod  the 

Dreamer  to  do. 
We  welcome  your  art,  Sorolla,  because  it  's  alive  and 

With  seedlings  and  seasons  of  Nature,  \vith  the  Sea 

and  its  ebb  and  its  flow. 

Master  of  painted  canvas,  Lover  of  human  kind — 
We  bring  thee  greeting,  Sorolla,  man  of  the  open 


Painter  of  splendors  and  squalors,  of  fishermen, 

peasants,  and  Kings, 
Painter  of  modern  Madonnas,  of  joys  that  maternity 


Painter  of  change  and  of  motion,  with  brush  that  is 

swift  like  the  wind, 
Painter  of  gay,  naked  boyhood,  pure  both  in  body 

and  mind, 
Master  of  masterly  brushwork,  with  vision  unjaded 

and  keen— 
We  bring  thee  greeting,  Sorolla,  for  Art  that  is  vital 

and  clean. 

Painter  of  radiant  childhood,  the  sun  and  the  open 


Painter  of  sorrowful  children,  shattered  by  Destiny, 
Painter  of  innocent  girlhood,  of  youth  the  dreamer 

Painter  of  men  and  women,  of  faces  like  thine  and 

Painter  of  wind  and  motion,  of  the  wide  mysterious 

Honor  and  greeting,  Sorolla,  to  the  son  of  thy 

Mother — Spain ! 



(The  Evening  Post,  March  8,  1909.) 




Is  the  New  York  public  manifesting  a  sudden  lean- 
ing toward  things  artistic;  and,  if  not,  why  the  sur- 
prising figures  that  were  given  out  to-day  at  the 
Hispanic  Society  Museum?  This  is  the  problem  that 
is  being  worked  out  in  the  studio  belt  with  eager  in- 

The  exhibit  of  the  Sorolla  canvases — work  of  the 
Spanish  painter— will  be  closed  to-night  at  10 
o'clock.  For  a  bit  more  than  a  month  the  pictures 
have  been  on  view,  seven  days  each  week,  from 
10  A.M.  until  the  same  hour  at  night,  and  at  the 
opening  hour  to-day  the  total  of  attendance  had  been 
148,899,  probably  the  largest  number  of  visitors  ever 
recorded  at  a  similar  exhibit  in  this  city. 

When  the  collection  was  first  placed  on  view,  on 
February  8th,  attendance  for  the  day  was  589.  From 
that  time  the  crowds  continued  to  increase,  until,  yes- 



terday,  29,461  visitors  taxed  the  capacity  of  the  ex- 
hibition room. 

SOMETHING  about  the  Sorolla  exhibit  caught  the 
popular  fancy  and  there  has  not  been  an  hour  of  the 
day  when  the  building  has  not  been  well  filled  with 
spectators  of  all  classes. 

Possibly  the  manner  of  conducting  the  exhibit 
has  contributed  to  some  extent  to  its  success.  There 
have  been  few,  if  any,  restrictions. 

The  pictures  are  there,  and  the  visitor  may  enter 
and  linger  as  long  as  he  likes  before  this  or  that  fa- 
vorite, without  fear  of  being  requested  to  make  room 
for  others.  Even  the  umbrella  has  been  treated  with 
due  courtesy,  and  no  officious  attendant  has  been  on 
hand  to  separate  it  from  its  owner  temporarily. 

But,  of  course,  the  pictures  themselves  have  been 
the  chief  attraction.  When  they  are  taken  down, 
many  of  them  will  be  shipped  to  Buffalo,  where  they 
will  be  placed  on  exhibition  for  three  weeks.  From 
Buffalo  the  collection  will  travel  to  Boston  for  sev- 
eral weeks'  stay  there.  It  is  not  likely  that  the  col- 
lection will  be  allowed  to  leave  this  country.  Many 
offers  have  been  made  for  nearly  every  canvas  in  the 
group,  and  most  of  the  paintings  will  be  bought  by 
local  collectors. 

Shortly  after  the  lunch  hour  to-day  a  small  parade 
of  touring  cars,  cabs,  and  other  vehicles  began  ar- 
riving, and  these,  added  to  the  steady  stream  of  visi- 
tors who  came  via  the  subway,  gave  the  scene  outside 
the  exhibition  something  of  the  appearance  of  a 
Monday  night  at  the  opera.  To-day's  attendance,  it 
was  said,  would  probably  be  one  of  the  largest  of  the 

(The  New  York  Herald,  March  9,  1909.) 



START,  A  MONTH  AGO,  TO  29,461   ON 


THRONGS  of  persons  passed  through  the  Hispanic 
Society's  museum  yesterday  to  get  a  last  glimpse  of 
the  exhibition  of  paintings  by  Mr.  Sorolla,  a  Spanish 
painter,  which  came  to  a  brilliant  close.  The  attend- 
ance since  the  exhibition  was  opened,  on  February 
4th,  has  been  160,000  persons. 

AT  first  the  attendance  was  small,  but  the  press  and  a 
general  discussion  of  the  merit  of  the  pictures  drew 
the  attention  of  the  public.  The  first  general  day, 
February  8th,  had  an  attendance  of  589  persons. 


The  attendance  on  February  2ist  was  10,296,  on 
Washington's  Birthday,  11,906;  on  Sunday,  Febru- 
ary 28th,  19,173,  while'on  last  Saturday  it  was  25,- 
002,  and  hundreds,  perhaps  thousands,  of  visitors 
were  turned  away.  The  highest  attendance  was 
29,461,  which  was  recorded  last  Sunday. 

(The  Evening  Post,  March  9,  1909.) 

WHAT  inference  respecting  the  popular  taste  in  art 
is  to  be  drawn  from  the  extraordinary  success  of  the 
exhibition  of  Senor  Sorolla's  paintings  in  this  city 
during  the  past  month?  They  have  easily  been  the 
art  sensation  of  the  year.  The  works  of  this  one 
Spaniard  have  thrown  the  show  of  contemporary 
German  art  into  complete  eclipse.  It  is  stated  that 
150,000  visitors  have  gone  to  the  remote  Hispanic 
Museum  to  bathe  in  Sorolla's  sunlight.  To  conclude 
that  they  were  all  discriminating  lovers  of  art  would 
be  foolish.  A  fashion  set  in  such  things  easily  draws 
along  many  thoughtless  folk.  But  we  know  that 
genuine  artists  have  gone  again  and  again  with  re- 
newed delight,  and  that  really  intelligent  amateurs 
of  art  have  leavened  the  crowds.  Admitting  the 
power  of  novelty  in  Sorolla's  name  and  method,  we 


yet  are  bound  to  see  in  his  marked  triumph  evidence 
of  a  capacity  in  the  people  to  appreciate  and  to  be 
moved  by  high  art.  This  ne^  Spanish  Conquest  of 
America  simply  proves  once  more  that  artistic  genius 
has  the  world  at  its  feet. 

(Las  Novedades,  New  York,  March  n,  1909.) 


UNA  concurrencia  inmensa  asistio  el  martes  ultimo  a 
la  clausura  de  la  exhibicion  de  pinturas  de  Sorolla  y 
Bastida,  en  el  Museo  de  la  Sociedad  Hispanica  de 
America.  El  numero  de  personas  que  visitaron  la 
exposicion  es  el  mas  grande  que  jamas  haya  concu- 
rrido  en  esta  ciudad  a  exhibicion  alguna  de  arte,  pues 
que  desde  el  4  de  Febrero  en  que  se  abrio,  han  visto 
las  famosas  obras  del  artista  espanol,  160,000  per- 
sonas. El  primer  dia  de  la  exhibicion  para  el  publico, 
despues  de  la  exhibicion  privada,  concurrieron  589  per- 
sonas; durante  una  semana  hubo  una  concurrencia 
diaria  de  4,000;  el  21  de  Febrero  concurrieron  10,- 
296;  el  22,  dia  de  fiesta  nacional,  11,906;  el  domingo 
28  siguiente,  19,173,  y  el  sabado  ultimo,  25,002,  no 
habiendo  sido  posible  a  millares  de  personas  poder 
entrar  este  dia  en  el  Museo,  por  la  cantidad  de  visi- 

tantes.  La  mas  grande  cifra  fue  la  alcanzada  el  do- 
mingo  ultimo,  en  que  hubo  29,461  visitantes. 

No  pudo,  pues,  haber  sido  mas  complete  el  exito 
obtenido  por  el  notable  pintor  espanol,  quien  debe, 
con  razon,  sentirse  orgulloso  de  ese  triunfo  suyo,  sin 
precedente  en  este  pais.  Su  nombre  se  ha  hecho  ver- 
daderamente  popular  entre  los  newyorkinos  y  su  repu- 
tacion  artistica  ha  quedado  solidamente  sentada 
entre  la  mas  culta  sociedad. 

Se  asegura  que  la  venta  de  algunos  de  sus  cuadros, 
produjo  al  serior  Sorolla  de  tres  cientos  a  cuatroscien- 
tos  mil  duros  y  que  cuatro  de  ellos  han  sido  adquiri- 
dos  para  el  Museo  Metropolitano  de  Bellas  Artes. 

No  solo  desde  el  punto  de  vista  artistico  ha  sido 
beneficioso  para  Espaiia  el  grandiose  triunfo  de  uno 
de  sus  ilustres  hijos :  el  publico  de  Nueva  York  ha 
tenido  ocasion  de  ver  pintadas  con  la  maestria  que 
Sorolla  sabe  hacerlo,  algunas  de  las  bellas  escenas 
espaiiolas,  que  han  despertado  el  interes  y  el  entu- 
siasmo  a  que  justamente  son  acreedoras  y  hecho  nacer 
el  deseo  de  ver  la  hermosa  tierra  en  que  se  han  desa- 
rrollado.  Los  risuenos  y  pintorescos  paisajes  de 
Valencia,  que  tan  bellos  asuntos  inspiraron  a  la  ima- 
ginacion  del  gran  artista,  han  revelado  al  publico 
americano  la  existencia  de  ttna  tierra  ideal  para  pasar 
los  rigores  del  verno. 

Nos  complacemos  una  vez  mas  en  enviar  al  ilustre 
pintor  nuestras  mas  calurosas  y  entusiastas  felicita- 
ciones,  movidos  por  el  natural  sentimiento  de  raza 
que  ha  despertado  nuestro  orgullo  tambien  ante  su 








Siete-Picos,  Guadarrama 

Seven-Peaks,  Quadarrama  Mts. 
The  mountain  so-called,  in  the  province  of  Mad- 
rid, is  about  7160  ft.  high. 

Covachuelas,  Toledo 

Covachuelas,  Toledo 

Covachuelas,  "Little  Caves,"  is  the  most  northern 

suburb  of  Toledo. 

Las  Pedrizas,  Pardo 

Las  Pedrizas,  Pardo 

Pedriza,  "Stony  Tract,"  "Stone  Fence."  El  Pardo, 
a  little  town  of  1800  inhabitants,  40  minutes  by 
tramway  north  from  Madrid,  in  a  royal  park  36 
miles  in  circumference. 

Senor  Gomar 

A  distinguished  landscape-painter 

El  Torneo,  Pardo 
El  Torneo,  Pardo 
Torneo,  "jousting-place" 

Una  calle  de  Toledo 

A  Toledo  street 

Vista  del  Torneo 

View  from  El  Torneo 

Murallas  de  Segovia 
Walls  of  Segovia 

"Segovia  is  an  unmatched  picture  of  the  Middle 
Ages.  You  read  its  history  on  the  old  city-walls 
with  their  eighty-three  towers." — A.  Gallenga. 

9     Convento  del  Parral,  Segovia 
Convent  of  El  Parral,  Segovia 
Parral,  "Vine-Arbor."     The  now  suppressed  mon- 
astery  is   across   the   Eresma,   to   the   north   of 

10     Alrededores  de  Segovia 

Environs  of  Segovia 

1 1     Reflejos  del  Cabo,  Javea 

Reflections  from  the  Cape,  Javea 
Javea,  a  town  of  6700  inhabitants,  on  the  Jalon, 
45  miles  south  of  Valencia.     The  cape  is  Cabo  de 
San  Antonio. 

12     El  Clamores,  Segovia 
The  Clamores,  Segovia 

Segovia  is  perched  on  a  rocky  hill,  about  330 
ft.  high,  between  two  small  streams,  the  Eresma, 
north,  and  the  Clamores,  south,  which  join  to  the 
west  below  the  Alcazar. 


13     Rocas  del  Cabo,  Javea 

Rocks  of  the  Cape,  Javea 

14     Alqueria,  Alcira 
Farm-house,  Alcira 

Alcira  is  a  town  of  20,500  inhabitants,  23  miles 
south  of  Valencia.  It  has  many  palms  and 

1 5     Maria  en  Biarritz 

Maria  at  Biarritz 

Senorita  Doiia  Maria  Sorolla 

16     Sombra  del  Puente  Alcantara,  Toledo 

Shadow  of  the  Alcantara  Bridge,  Toledo 
This  bridge  at  the  northeast  angle  of  the  city  has 
one  large  and  one  smaller  arch.     It  is  of  Moorish 
origin  (Arab,  al  kantara=:bridge). 

17     Castillo  de  San  Servando,  Toledo 

On  the  heights  on  the  left  bank  of  the  Tagus  are 
the  ruins  of  the  Castle  of  San  Servando,  erected 
by  Alfonso  VI  (1072-1109)  to  protect  the  convent 
of  that  name  and  the  city,  and  renewed  by 
Alfonso  VIII  (1158-1214). 

18     Dr.  Decret 

An   eminent   physician 

19     Puente  de  Alcantara,  Toledo 

Alcantara  Bridge,  Toledo 

20  La  Selva,  Gran j a 

The  Forest,  La  Gran  j  a 

In  1719  Philip  V  purchased  the  granja,  "grange," 
of  the  Hieronymite  monks,  seven  miles  southeast 
of  Segovia  and  began  to  construct  the  chateau 
and  gardens  named  La  Granja. 

21  Rio  de  las  Truchas,  Granja 

Trout-stream,  La  Granja 

22     Patio  de  las  Danzas,  Alcazar,  Sevilla 
Court  of  the  Dances,  Alcazar,  Seville 
The  Alcazar,  the  palace  of  the  Moorish  kings,  has 
been  the  residence  of  the  Spanish  sovereigns  since 
the  capture  of  the  city  by  St.  Ferdinand  in  1248. 

23  Adelfas 

Rose-bay  trees 

24  Canada,  Asturias 

Glen,  Asturias 

25     Pabellon  de  Carlos  V,  Sevilla 

Pavilion    of    Charles   V    (Charles    I    of    Spain), 


26  Puente  de  San  Martin,  Toledo 

St.  Martin's  Bridge,  Toledo 

27  Naranjos 


28  Cordeleros 


29  Senor  Franzen 

The  photographer 

30  Rocas  del  Faro,  Biarritz 

Rocks  at  the  lighthouse,   Biarritz 

31  Puente  de  San  Martin,  Toledo 

St.    Martin's   Bridge,   Toledo 

32  Pescadora  valenciana 

Valencian  fisherwoman 

33  Camino  de  San  Esteban,  Asturias 

Road    of    San    Esteban,  Asturias 

34  Estanque  del  Alcazar,  Sevilla 

Basin  in  the  Alcazar,  Seville 

35  Puerto  de  Valencia 

Harbor  of  Valencia 

36  Amontonando  el  heno,  Asturias 

Haymaking,  Asturias 

37  Casa  del  Greco,  Toledo 

House  of  "El  Greco,"  Toledo 

Domingo  Theotocopuli,  called  "El  Greco"  (1548- 


38  Maria  con  sombrero  negro 

Maria  with  black  hat 
Senorita  Dona  Maria  Sorolla 

39  Torre  de  entrada  en  Toledo 

Tower  of  entrance,  Toledo 

40  Las  Covachuelas,  Toledo 

(See  No.  2) 

41  Rocas,  Javea 

Rocks,  Javea 
(See  No.  n) 

42  Camino  de  los  Alijares,  Toledo 

Road  of  the   Alijares,   "Stony   Ground,"   Toledo 

43  Familia  segoviana 

Segovian  family 

44  Escaldando  uva,  Javea 

Scalding  grapes 
(See  No.  11) 

45  Joaquin 

Senor  D.  Joaquin  Sorolla 

46  Elena 


Senorita  Dona  Elena  Sorolla 

47  El  Grutesco,  Alcazar,  Sevilla 

"El  Grutesco" 

48  Playa  de  Valencia 

Beach  of  Valencia 

49  Velas  a  secar,  Valencia 

Sails  drying 

50  Naranjo 


51  Nino  con  la  barquita 

Little  boy  with  toy  boat 

52  Viejo  pescador  valenciano 

Old  Valencian  fisherman 

53  Barcas  de  pesca 



54  Puerto  de  Valencia 

Harbor  of  Valencia 

55  El  beso 

The  kiss 

56  Nino  sobre  una  roca,  Javea 

Little  boy  on  a  rock 

57  Bao  de  la  Reina,  Valsain 

The   Queen's   Beam,  Valsain 

Valsain,  an  old  and  neglected  hunting-chateau, 
two  miles  from  La  Gran j a,  built  by  Philip  II  and 
burned  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II. 

58  Escalera  del  Palacio,  Granja 

Staircase  of  the  Palace,  La  Granja 

59  Elena  en  el  Pardo 

Helen  at  El  Pardo 

60  Fuente  de  los  Caballos,  Granja 

Fountain  of  the  Horses,  La  Granja 
The  fountains  of  La  Granja  are  superior  to  those 
of  Versailles.  They  were  mainly  made  in  1727  by 
Isabella  Farnese  as  a  surprise  for  her  husband 
Philip  V,  on  his  return  after  a  long  absence.  He 
said :  "It  has  cost  me  three  millions  and  has 
amused  me  three  minutes."  The  water  is  supplied 
•  by  an  artificial  lake,  El  Mar,  4100  ft.  above  the 


61  Otofio,  Granja 

Autumn,  La  Granja 

62  Maria  pintando,  Pardo 

Maria  painting,  Pardo 

63  Fuente  de  la  Selva,  Granja 

Fountain  of  the  Forest,  La  Granja 

64  Fuente  de  Neptuno,  Granja 

Fountain  of  Neptune,  La  Granja 

65  Huerto  de  naranjos,  Valencia 

Orange-grove,  Valencia 

66  Francisqueta,  Valencia 

Fanny,  Valencia 

67  Esperando  la  pesca,  Valencia 

Waiting  for  the  fish,  Valencia 

68  Recogiendo  la  vela,  Valencia 

Taking  in  the  sail,  Valencia 

69     Regreso  de  la  pesca,  Valencia 

Return  from  fishing,  Valencia 

[397 1 

70  Pescadores  de  quisquillas,  Valencia 

Crayfishers,  Valencia 

71  Nadador,  Javea 

Swimmer,  Javea 

72  Elena  entre  rosas 

Helen   among   roses 

73  Idilio 


74  Serior  D.  Vicente  Blasco  Ibanez 

The  eminent  novelist 

75  Arbol  amarillo,  Granja 

Yellow  tree,  La  Granja 

76  El  ciego  de  Toledo 

Blind  man  of  Toledo 

77     Pescadora  con  su  hijo,  Valencia 

Fisherwoman  with  her  son,  Valencia 

78     El  bafio,  Granja 

The  bath,  La  Granja 

79  Cosiendo  la  vela,  Valencia 

Sewing  the   sail,   Valencia 

80  Buscando  cangrejos,  Javea 

Looking  for  crabs,  Javea 

81  Maria,  Granja 

Maria,  La  Granja 

82  Joaquin  y  su  perro 

Joaquin  and  his  dog 

83  Sobre  la  arena 

Upon  the  sand 

84  Pescadoras  valencianas 

Valencian  fisherwomen 

85  Senora  de  Sorolla  (bianco) 

Seiiora  de  Sorolla  in  white 

86  A  la  orilla  del  mar,  Valencia 

At  the  sea-shore.  Valencia 

87  Valenciana 

Valencian  woman 

En  los  jardines  de  la  Granja 

In  the  Gardens  of  La  Granja 

The    Gardens    of    La    Granja,    laid    out    by    the 

French   landscape-gardener,    Boutelet,   cover  350 

89  Viejo  castellano 

Old  Castilian 

90  Excelentisimo 

Seiior  Marques  D.  Estanislao  de  Urquijo 

Banker  and  statesman 

91  Hija  de  pescador,  Valencia 

Fisherman's  daughter,  Valencia 

92  Elena  y  sus  munecas 

Helen  and  her  dolls 

93  Mis  hijos 

My  children 

94  Nadadores 


95  Baja  mar  (Elena  en  Biarritz) 

Low  tide   (Helen  at  Biarritz) 

96  Componiendo  redes 

Mending  nets 



97  El  bano,  Javea 

The  bath,  Javea 

98  El  baiio,  Javea 

99  Encajonando  pasa 

Boxing  raisins 

100  Puente  de  la  Selva,  Granja 

Forest  Bridge,  La  Granja 

101  Vista  del  Palacio,  Granja 

View  of  the  Palace,  La  Granja 

1 02  Vuelta  de  la  pesca,  Valencia 

Return  from  fishing,  Valencia 

103     Al  bano,  Valencia 

At  the  bath,  Valencia 

104     Nina  con  lazo  azul,  Valencia 

Little  girl  with  blue  ribbon,  Valencia 

[05     Maria  en  el  puerto  de  Javea 

Maria,  at  the  harbor  of  Javea 

106  Instantanea,  Biarritz 

Instantaneous,  Biarritz 

107  Nino  entre  espumas,  Javea 

Boy  among  breakers,  Javea 

1 08  Jardin  del  Alcazar,  Sevilla 

Garden  of  the  Alcazar,   Seville 

109  Camino  de  adelfas,  Valencia 

Rose-bay  road,  Valencia 

1 10  Maria  y  su  abuela 

Maria  and  her  grandmother 

in     Malvarrosa,  Valencia 

Malvarrosa   Beach,  Valencia 

112     Huerta  de  Valencia 

The  Huerta  or  "Garden"  of  Valencia 

113     Jardin  del  Alcazar,  Sevilla 

Garden  of  the  Alcazar,  Seville 

114     Jardin  del  Alcazar,  Sevilla 

H5     La  Giralda,  Sevilla 

This  tower,  originally  the  minaret  of  the  principal 
mosque,  was  erected  1184-96  by  the  architect 
Jabir.  It  is  45  ft.  sq.,  has  walls  8  ft.  thick  and 
was  at  first  230  ft.  high.  In  1568  the  cathedral 
chapter  commissioned  Hernan  Ruiz  to  build  the 
upper  section.  The  Giraldillo  or  vane  is  305  ft. 
above  the  ground. 

116  Palacio  de  Carlos  V,  Sevilla 

Palace  of  Charles  V,  Seville 

117  Puerto  de  Valencia 

Harbor  of  Valencia 

n<^     Marques  de  la  Vega- Ynclan 

119     Puerto  de  Valencia 
Harbor  of  Valencia 

120  Al  agua,  Valencia 

At  the  water 

121  Casa  de  la  Huerta,  Valencia 

House  in  the  "Huerta,"  Valencia 

122     Jardin  de  la  playa,  Valencia 
Beach  garden,  Valencia 


123  Huerta  de  Valencia 

"Huerta"  of  Valencia 

124  Jardin  del  Alcazar,  Sevilla 

Garden  of  the  Alcazar,  Seville 

125  Asturias 


126  San  Sebastian 

San  Sebastian 

126A  Estudio  de  oleaje 

Study  of  surf 

127  Puerto  viejo.  Biarritz 

Old  harbor,  Biarritz 

128  Playa  de  Biarritz 

Beach  of  Biarritz 

129  Playa  de  Biarritz 

130  Playa  de  Biarritz 

131  Playa  de  Biarritz 

132  Playa  de  Biarritz 

133  Playa  de  Biarritz 

134  Playa  de  Biarritz 

135  Playa  de  Biarritz 

136  Playa  de  Biarritz 

137  Playa  de  Biarritz 

138  Playa  de  Biarritz 

139  Playa  de  Biarritz 

140  Playa  de  Biarritz 

141  Playa  de  Biarritz 

142  Playa  de  Biarritz 

143  Playa  de  Biarritz 

144     La  Concha,  San  Sebastian 

San  Sebastian,  the  summer  residence  of  the  royal 
family,  is  at  the  south  base  of  the  Monte  Orgull, 
a  rocky  island  now  connected  with  the  main  land, 


and  on  alluvial  ground  between  the  mouth  of  the 
Urumea  on  the  east  and  the  bay  of  La  Concha, 
"The  Shell,"  on  the  west. 

145  Playa  de  Biarritz 

146  Playa  de  Biarritz 

147  Playa  de  Biarritz 

148  Playa  de  Biarritz 

149  Playa  de  Biarritz 

150  Playa  de  Biarritz 

151  Playa  de  Biarritz 

152  Playa  de  Biarritz 

153  Playa  de  Biarritz 

154  Playa  de  Biarritz 

155  Playa  de  Valencia 


•    = 

156  Playa  de  Valencia 

157  Playa  de  Valencia 

158  Puerto  de  San  Sebastian 

159  Puerto  de  San  Sebastian 

1 60  Playa  de  Valencia 

161     Pasajes 

The  beautiful  and  almost  land-locked  Bay  of 
Pasajes,  which  resembles  an  Alpine  lake.  The 
Basque  whaling-port  from  the  i6th  to  the  i8th 
century.  From  it  Lafayette  sailed  for  America 
in  1776. 

162  Puerto  de  San  Sebastian 

163  La  Concha,  San  Sebastian 

164  La  Concha,  San  Sebastian 

165  Puerto  de  Pasajes 


1 66  Playa  de  Valencia 

167  Playa  de  Valencia 

1 68  Playa  de  Valencia 

169  Playa  de  Valencia 

170  Playa  de  Valencia 

171  Playa  de  Valencia 

172  Playa  de  Valencia 

173  Playa  de  Valencia 

174  Playa  de  Valencia 

175  Playa  de  Valencia 

176  Playa  de  Valencia 

177  Playa  de  Valencia 

178  Cabo  de  San  Antonio,  Javea 

Cape  San  Antonio,  Javea 

179  Galicia 

1 80  Cosiendo  la  vela 

Sewing  the  sail 

181  Adormideras 


182  Playa  de  Valencia 

183  Malvarrosa 

Malvarrosa  Beach,  Valencia 

184  Puerto  de  San  Sebastian 

185  Playa  de  Valencia 

1 86  Locutorio 

"Locutory,"  in  convents  a  place  for  the  reception 
of  visitors. 

187  Playa  de  Valencia 


1 88  Playa  de  Valencia 

189  Cabo  de  San  Antonio,  Javea 

Cape  San  Antonio,  Javea 

190  Not  exhibited 

191  Adelfas 


192  Playa  de  Valencia 

193  La  Concha,  San  Sebastian 

194  Playa  de  Valencia 

195  Playa  de  Valencia 

196  Playa  de  Valencia 
I96A  Playa  de  Valencia 

197  Biarritz 

198  Biarritz 


199  Segovia 

200  Asturias 

201  Versalles 


202  Playa  de  Valencia 

203  Playa  de  Valencia 

204  Playa  de  Valencia 

205  Playa  de  Valencia 

206     Patio  del  Cabafial 
Court  of  the  Cabafial 

In  the  season  (mid-June  to  October)  tramways 
run  from  Valencia  to  the  north  through  El 
Cabafial,  "Huts,"  to  the  bathing-establishment, 
Las  Arenas. 

207     En  el  rio 

In  the  river 

208     Puerto  de  Valencia 

2OO,  Playa  de  Valencia 

210  Puerto  de  Valencia 

211  Playa  de  Valencia 

212  Playa  de  Valencia 

213  Playa  de  Valencia 

214     Malvas  reales 

Roval  mallows 

215     Los  geranios 


216     Altar  de  San  Vicente,  Valencia 

Altar  of  St.  Vincent  Ferrer  in  the  house  in  which 
he  was  born,  at  Valencia,  Jan.  23,  1355  or  1357 
He  died  in  1419. 

217  Playa  de  Valencia 

218  Puerto  de  Aviles 

219  Playa  de  Valencia 

220  Playa  de  Valencia 

221  Plava  de  Valencia 

222     Mercado  de  Leon 

Market  of  Leon 

223  Playa  de  Valencia 

224  Playa  de  Valencia 

225  Playa  de  Valencia 

226  Playa  de  Valencia 

227  Playa  de  Valencia 

228  Huerta  de  Valencia 

"Huerta"  of  Valencia 

229  Playa  de  Valencia 

230  Playa  de  Valencia 


231  Playa  de  Valencia 

232  Playa  de  Valencia 

233  Playa  de  Valencia 

234  Playa  de  Valencia 

235  Asturias 

236  Playa  de  Valencia 

237  Mujeres  jugando 

Women  playing 

238  Playa  de  Valencia 

239  Playa  de  Valencia 

240  Playa  de  Valencia 

241  Playa  de  Valencia 

24IA  Original  sketch  for  No.  350 

Senor  1).  Manuel  B.  Cossio 


242  Mercado  de  Leon 

243  Playa  de  Valencia 

244  Playa  de  Valencia 

245  Playa  de  Valencia 

246  Playa  de  Valencia 

247  Asturias 

248  Leon 

249  Asturias 

250  Javea 

251  Asturias 

252  Leon 

253  Asturias 


254  Asturias 

255  Playa  de  Valencia 

256  Playa  de  Valencia 

257  Asturias 

258  Leon 

259  Playa  de  Valencia 

260  Playa  de  Valencia 

261  Playa  de  Valencia 

262  Leon 

263  Playa  de  Valencia 

264  Asturias 
26;  Galicia 


266  Malvarrosa 

Malvarrosa  Beach,  Valencia 

267  Javea 

268  Biarritz 

269  Puerto  de  Javea 

270  La  Concha,  San  Sebastian 

271  San  Sebastian 

272  San  Sebastian 

273  Playa  de  Valencia 

274  Playa  de  Valencia 

275  Playa  de  Valencia 

276  Playa  de  Valencia 

277  Playa  de  Valencia 


278  Lavanderas 


279  San  Sebastian 

280  Playa  de  Valencia 

281  San  Sebastian 

282  San  Sebastian 

283  Playa  de  Valencia 

284  Playa  de  Valencia 

285  El  tio  Pancha 

Uncle  Pancha 

286  Serior  Garcia 

The  father-in-law  of  Senor  Sorolla 

287  Nino  desnudo,  Granja 

Boy  nude.  La  Granja 

288  Seriora  de  Sorolla  (negro) 

Senora  de   Sorolla  in  black 

289  Excelentisimo 

Senor  Duque  de  Alba 

Grande  de  Espafia 

290  Madre  (Senora  de  Sorolla) 

Mother   (Senora  de  Sorolla) 

291  Corriendo  por  la  playa 

Running  along  the  beach 

292  Despues  del  baiio 

After  the  bath 

293  Paseo  del  Faro,  Biarritz 

Lighthouse  Walk,  Biarritz 

294  Nino  en  la  playa 

Little  boy  on  the  beach 

295  Cabo  de  San  Antonio,  Javea 

Cape  San  Antonio,  Javea 

296  Excelentisimo 

Senor  Conde  de  Villagonzalo 

The  Count  de  Villagonzalo 

297     Nino  en  el  mar 
Boy  in  the  sea 


298  Xinos  en  la  playa 

Children  on  the  beach 

299  Barcas  valencianas 

Valencian  boats 

300  El  hermano  pequeno 

The  little  brother 

301  Niiios  en  el  mar 

Children  in  the  sea 

302  Naranjal,  Alcira 

Orange-grove,  Alcira 

303     Al  ag-ua 

At  the  water 

304     Xiiio  en  la  playa 

Little  bov  on  the  beach 

305     Calle  cle  naranjos 

Street  of  orange-trees 

306     Jugando  en  el  agua 

Playing  in  the  water 


Excelentisimo  Senc 

.  Alejandro  Piclal  y  .Moti 


307  Playa  de  Valencia  (Luz  de  la  mafiana) 

Beach  of  Valencia  by  morning  light 

308  Salida  del  bafio 

Coming  out  of  the  bath 

309  El  nieto 

The  grandson 

310  Alegria  del  agua 

Water  joy 

311  Sobre  la  arena 

On   the  sand 

312  D.  Francisco  Acebal 

Man  of  letters 

313  Excelentisimo 

Sefior  D.  Marcelino  Menendez  y  Pelayo 

The  most  eminent  living  scholar  of  Spain.  Born 
at  Santander,  Nov.  3,  1856,  at  the  age  of  22  he  be- 
came a  professor  in  the  University  of  Madrid, 
and  when  25  was  admitted  to  the  Spanish 
Academy.  After  more  than  twenty  years'  service 
he  resigned  his  professorship  to  become  Director 
of  the  National  Library. 

314  Excelentisimo 

Sefior  D.  Aureliano  de  Beruete 

An  eminent  historian  and  critic  of  art,  especially 
distinguished  for  his  work  on  Velazquez. 


315  Excelentisimo 

Seiior  Marques  cle  Viana 

Grande  cle  Espana 

316  Playa  de  Valencia 

317  Serior  Granzon 

318  Toros  que  se  preparan  para  sacar  las 

barcas  de  pesca,  Valencia 

Oxen  ready  to  beach  fishing-boats,  Valencia 
Called  in   England   "Beaching  the  Boat"' 

319  Niiios  en  el  mar 

Children  in  the  sea 

320  Mar  (Efecto  de  la  manana) 

Sea    (Morning   effect) 

321  Barca  pescadora 


322  Velas  en  el  mar 

Sails  at  sea 

323  Vuelta  de  la  pesca 

Return   from  fishing 

324  Barcas  en  la  arena 

Boats  on  the  sand 


Excelentisima  Senora  de  Sorolla  de  mantilla  espanol 


325  Estudio  de  barcas 

Study  of  boats 

326  Barcas  pescadoras 


327  Barcas 


328     Nifios  en  la  orilla 

Children  on  the  beach 

329  Playa  de  Valencia 

330  Playa  de  Valencia 

33 1  Playa  de  Valencia 

332  Playa  de  Valencia 

333     Redes  a  secar 

Nets  drying 

334     Empujando  la  barca 

Shoving  off  the  boat 


335  Playa  de  Valencia 

336  Adelfas 


337  Playa  de  Valencia 

338  Playa  de  Valencia 

339  Playa  de  Valencia 

340  Leoneses 

Leonese  peasants 

341  Al  bafio 

At  the  bath 

342  Idilio  en  el  mar 

Sea  idyl 

343  Not  exhibited 

344     Senor  D.  Manuel  B.  Cossio 

Director  of  the  Institute  Pedagogico,  Madrid,  and 

author  of  "El  Greco" 

(Acquired  by  the  Hispanic  Society  of  America) 



345     Los  pimientos 

The  peppers 

(Acquired  by  the  Hispanic  Society  of  America) 

346     Excelentisimo 

Sefior  D.  Raimundo  de  Madrazo 

Descendant  and  kinsman  of  painters,  and  himself 
an  eminent  portrait-painter 

347  Excelentisimo 

Sefior  D.  Alejandro  Pidal  y  Mon 
Statesman  and  man  of  letters 

348  Excelentisima 

Senora  de  Sorolla  de  mantilla  espafiola 

Senora  de  Sorolla  in  Spanish  mantilla 

349     Mis  hijas,  Elena  y  Maria  a  caballo  con  los 
trajes  valencianos  de  1808 

My  daughters,  Helen  and  Maria  on  horseback  in 
Valencian  costumes  of  1808,  the  year  of  the  out- 
break of  the  War  for  Independence  against 

350     Triste  Herencia 

Sad  Inheritance 

(See  p.  20  of  Introduction) 






Thursday,  February  4 88 

Friday,  February  5 194 

Saturday,  February  6 456 

Sunday,  February  7 905 


Monday,  February  8 589 

Tuesday,  February  9 531 

Wednesday,  February  10 453 

Thursday,  February  1 1 658 

Friday,  February  12 2»445 

Saturday,  February  13 1,611 

Sunday,  February  14 4,047 


Monday,  February  15 775 

Tuesday,  February  16 514 

Wednesday,  February  17 1»4?6 

Thursday,  February  18 1,517 

Friday,  February  19   1,122 

Saturday,  February  20 2,274 

Sunday,  February  21 10,296 


Monday,  February  22 11,906 

Tuesday,  February  23 680 

Wednesday,  February  24 821 

Thursday,  February  25 i,39° 

Friday,  February  26 2,586 

Saturday,  February  27 6,160 

Sunday,  February  28 I9,'73 


Monday,  March  i. ...  3,176 

Tuesday.  March  2 2,356 

Wednesday,  March  3 4,794 

Thursday,  March  4 2,536 

Friday,  March  5 8,904 

Saturday,  March  6 25,002 

Sunday,  March  7 29,461 

Monday,  March  8 
















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